


Behind Closed Doors

by HistoricalPhan (FateAndFiction)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Illnesses, M/M, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, References to Illness, Suicidal Thoughts, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateAndFiction/pseuds/HistoricalPhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based very loosely on ‘A Little Princess’ and ‘David Copperfield’</p><p>14 year old Dan Howell is sent away to boarding school leaving behind his abusive stepfather and incredibly ill mother. 17 year old Phil Lester is the school’s jack-of-all-trades who works his hardest under harsh circumstances to avoid the workhouse. The two boys meet and become close friends knowing they have to stick together if they are to survive the trials that lay ahead of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting anything on AO3 so I'm very sorry if there are any formatting mistakes! If you'd like to keep up with this on tumblr my url is; historicalphan.tumblr.com  
> I'm aiming to update every Wednesday and Saturday :)  
> Thank you!

Dan leant into his mother’s arms and gazed up at her lovingly, her long brown hair tickling his nose slightly but he couldn’t bring himself to bat it away. It was a lovely sunny day and the pair were doing Dan’s lessons outside, well, they had gone out with the intention of doing so but actually ended up sitting on a bright yellow picnic blanket soaking up the sunlight and reminiscing about old times and Dan’s father, his mother playing with the wedding ring on a chain around her neck and Dan opening and closing his father’s silver pocket watch.

“He used to love that path right there,” Lily commented, pointing to the long gravel pathway by the lake, “You know why?”

“No, why?”

“Because it’s where you took your first steps,” she replied, smiling down at her son who was lying with his head in her lap, gazing up at her, “And every summer he’d take his paper down to sit on that bench there and watch you play with your boats in the lake,”

Dan smiled in remembrance, looking down to the mossy waters.

“That was back when I wore short trousers and you insisted on putting me in those ridiculous little sailor suits,” he giggled, his face lighting up, “One time I used my hat as a boat and cried when it sank because I thought you’d be mad at me and Papa kicked his shoes and socks off, rolled up his trousers and waded in to get it back for me,”

“Was that the day you both came back soaking wet and covered in grass stains?”

“Yes!” Dan said, sitting upright so he could get a better view, “Poor Mary tried so hard to get those stains out, she never did manage,”

“You cruel thing Bear!” she shook her head fondly and patted him on the back, “You never had to wear that sailor suit again though, did you? Was that your intention all along?”

Dan gasped in mock horror and tried to look outraged but spoiled it by laughing.

“How very dare you!” he said, folding his arms, “How could you think me so spiteful?”

The two laughed and joked around a little, looking down across the grassy gardens to the water. Slowly the mood changed a little and became more melancholy.

“Daniel,” she said quietly, causing him to look up in concern as she never used his proper name, “Do you really hate Edward so much?”

Dan bit his lip and looked down at his hands, running his thumb over the well-worn metal of the pocket watch, thinking very hard about his next words.

“I don’t  _hate_  him Mama,” he said slowly, “I know you love him, so I couldn’t possibly hate him…”

She looked at him worriedly and reached out her hand as if to pull him close but thought better of it, letting it fall to her side.

“Then why do you antagonise him so?” she asked reproachfully, looking at his expression carefully, “You were never so difficult with your father, so why him?”

“You mean Papa never had to beat me,” he whispered, suddenly cold as if the sun had gone behind a cloud, he snapped the watch closed and tucked it back into his pocket, “Or send me to my room without supper,”

Lily shook her head and closed her eyes to stop tears from spilling over.

“Oh Bear!” she ducked her head and tried to stop crying, “He’s only doing what he thinks best for you! He wants you to grow up to be a strong, respectable man! And when he thinks you need reminding he… he helps you,”

Dan laughed mirthlessly, digging his nails into his palms as he tried to calm himself down, not wanting to shout or cry so he didn’t upset her any more.

“Sorry Mama,” he said coldly, “I’d forgotten, he doesn’t  _beat_  me, he just ‘corrects’ me,”

The two sat in silence, the happy moment gone and replaced only with resentment and sorrow. Eventually Dan picked up his Latin textbook and they began the lesson, though nothing was learnt as both of their minds were too far away and it had to be cut short as Lily had a coughing fit and had to be carried inside to bed, leaving behind a bloody handkerchief on the ground, the white and red stark against the green grass.

* * *

 

The only sound you could hear in the dark cavernous dining room was the heartbeat of the grandfather clock in the corner and the quiet clatters of silver-wear on china. Lily had changed out of her summer frock and had tied up her loose hair into a tight bun as her husband liked it and Dan had changed into what was previously his Sunday best but now his ‘evening wear’ because Mr Edward Johnson insisted on being prim and proper. Dan resented it as before the late Captain Howell had died the dining room had only been used at dinner parties and that they had worn what they had through the day and ate at a small table in the dayroom as it was homier and less work for the maids.

The air was thick with tension, neither Lily nor her son daring to say a word. When Johnson had first come to the house and demanded that they ate in the dining room Dan had continued with his bright chatter as usual, not noticing how angry the man was growing by the second. Halfway through a childish story of chasing the ducks in the lake a hand slammed down on the table and demanded quiet. After they’d finished eating in silence Dan had been told if he didn’t refrain from making a scene while they were eating, he wouldn’t eat at all. He suffered that a few times before learning to shut his mouth, bow his head, and speak only when he was spoken to.

“What were you doing outside today Daniel?” Johnson asked, staring at him down the long dinner table, “Your mother said after you’d finished your lessons you went running off to play, a bit old for that now aren’t you?”

Lily smiled meekly, and rested her hand on her husband’s arm while Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his smart clothes stiff and scratchy.

“Oh Edward,” she said with a false brightness, “My Bear will never be too old to play about, he’s such a bright boy and studies so diligently I think the running around is good for him, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy after all!”

“Quiet now Lily,” he chastised firmly, not once taking his eyes off Dan who had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping at how easily his mother had been dismissed, “Now tell me Daniel, I’m intrigued,”

“I like to read by the lake sir,” he said, looking down at his empty plate, wondering if he’d end up vomiting it all back up within the next hour from nerves, “It calms me, though Mama’s right, I do like to run as well,”

“Now what have I said about calling me sir?” Johnson snapped, shrugging his wife off and putting down his knife and fork, glaring down the table menacingly, “I’m married to your mother therefore I am your father now and you shall call me as such, how many times have I had to correct you on this?”

“You aren’t my father,” Dan said quietly, shaking with a mix of anger and nerves, his head spinning and his mouth running faster than he could think, “But if it pleases you then I’ll call you as such,”

Dan waited in silence for the inevitable order and as soon as it came did as he was told. As he rose to leave the table he caught his mother’s eye and felt something shatter inside of him as she hurriedly wiped away a tear.

“Hurry along! Go wait outside of my study boy!”

“Yes  _father_ ,”

* * *

 

When he limped back to his bedroom that night he wasn’t surprised to see Mary waiting for him with a bowl of water and a sad reproachful smile. He wiped his eyes again and lay on his side next to her on the bed, his head in her lap as she carded through his hair.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he muttered into her apron, “I shouldn’t antagonise him and I should know better,”

The older lady shook her head and patted him gently on the back.

“No Master Bear, I won’t. You shouldn’t have to live like this, you’re such a good boy, you don’t deserve it,”

Her familiar voice was a comfort and he felt himself relaxing for the first time in months. He pushed himself upright and knelt sideways on the bed, wincing in pain.

“Mary, look after mother for me,” he said quietly, tears still rolling down his face, “I-I couldn’t go if I thought she was on her own at his mercy,”

The round faced woman frowned and took his hand, squeezing it almost too tightly.

“When have I ever not looked after your Mama?” she scolded gently, “I practically raised the girl!”

Dan smiled in spite of himself and nodded, trying to imagine his elegant Mama as anything but the beautiful woman she was today, albeit ill.

“She only hired you when she got pregnant with me,” he reminded, letting himself be hugged and petted, “She wasn’t a little girl,”

“Oh she was! A dainty little thing like her shouldn’t have had a baby so young, not when she was only a child herself,” Mary smiled fondly at the memory before seeming to come to, her face growing serious, “Why do you have to go? Couldn’t you keep living here and hire better tutors?”

Dan shook his head gravely and began to play with his worn quilt, his fingers running over the lovingly stitched patches.

“I can’t, I do actually need to go to a proper school Mary, I just wish it wasn’t at a time when Mama’s so sick,” he sighed and let himself droop, resting his head on her shoulder, “And besides, I doubt father would let me stay here anyway. You should have heard him Mary! It’s hard enough to keep quiet when he’s hitting me, it was even worse when he was telling me how much of a burden I am to Mama and how I’m a detriment to her health!”

Mary bristled and Dan could sense her beginning to get very angry and while it was entertaining to watch, he’d been on the receiving end far too many times growing up to enjoy it.

“Oh I heard him alright!” she fumed, letting go of him and standing up, “It’s a good job Lady Lily had fallen asleep! Goodness knows what she’d have done if she’d been awake to hear it!”

Dan tried to shush her but she wasn’t having any of it.

“He’s more of a detriment to her health than you are! I help her dress every day, I see the bruises!”

Dan winced at the thought and shakily got to his feet, taking her hand in his once more.

“I know, but I won’t be gone for long, maybe when I’m not here things will get better? It’s me he doesn’t like, not her,” he gave her a shaky smile and kissed her on the cheek, “Now if you wouldn’t mind I’d like to get ready for bed; I’m exhausted after that ordeal,”

She nodded curtly and hugged him once more before turning to leave the room.

“I’ve brought some warm water up for you to wash with, goodnight dear,”

He thanked her as she closed the door and stayed strong until he was certain she was far enough away that she wouldn’t hear him crying into his pillow.

He pulled out his Papa’s watch again and traced the crest on the back with his fingers just as he had done when he was very small, sat on his loving father’s knee by the fire. There was something comforting about its heavy weight and familiar ticking, like a tiny metal heartbeat he could feel pulsing against his fingers. He had a habit of clinging to the pocket watch whenever he was nervous, imagining he was holding his Papa’s hand as he had as a child. With shaking hands he wound the top as far as it would go and tucked it under his pillow ready for morning.

That night he couldn’t help but wonder for the hundredth time why his mother had chosen to marry such a man. Well, he knew why; because he was tall and strong and foreboding and she’d thought he would look after her and her little boy, really he was the sort of monster she needed protecting from. Dan hated him with a passion, he hated what the man had done to his happy family home, he hated what he’d done to his mother, and he hated that he’d been made to take his last name. He was Daniel Howell, not Daniel Johnson. He’d had a hard time getting used to it and for the first few months had tripped up when he introduced himself to people, he learnt very quickly not to. Dan couldn’t wait until he was eighteen and he could properly inherit his title and estate and become ‘Lord Daniel James Howell’, but that was four years away.

He curled up under his sheets and dreamt of the day he’d be strong enough to stand up to the man, as if becoming a lord suddenly gave him godlike powers. He giggled tiredly at the thought.

* * *

 

Dan learnt quite quickly how to fake a smile. Every day he’d give a lopsided half grin to his mother and Mary at breakfast, pretending that it didn’t hurt to sit on the stiff wooden seats or that the almost permanent bruise under his eye didn’t ache so bad. He even learnt to fake a dimple, though that took an awful lot of practice, and that seemed to be the final thing that could convince his mother. He was doing that smile right now as he tried to convince her that it really was a good idea for him to go to school in London.

“You see Mama,” he said earnestly, kneeling by her side and holding her hand tight as she lay back on the sofa looking deathly white, “You’re so sick and I’m so noisy, it can’t be doing you any good having me around the house making such a racket, besides, if I’m to be a lawyer I need to go to a good school so they can teach me how,”

Lily bit her pretty plum lip and looked at him, waiting for any sign of sadness but could only sense a slight uneasiness in his eyes.

“Oh Bear,” she muttered, cupping his cheek, “You aren’t any bother! And do you really have your heart so set on becoming a lawyer? You’ll inherit so much money you won’t need ever to work!”

Dan genuinely smiled, albeit a little sadly.

“I know, but it wouldn’t do for me to sit about doing nothing, how am I ever to mix in high society if I don’t go to a proper school, how am I to find a wife?” Even to his own ears that sounded hollow and as if he’d learnt it by rote, which in a way he had, Johnson had repeated his ideas of what Dan’s future should be so many times Dan almost believed he wanted it himself, “I’ll write you every week if you’d like? Mama, I’m going so late in the year I’ll be home before you know it, it’s nearly half term apparently, and after that I’ll be back for Christmas and Easter! That’ll give you loads of time to get better before I come back,”

She laughed softly and ran her fingers through his fluffy brown curls, ruffling them up.

“As long as you promise to come back as my little baby Bear and not some serious young man!”

Dan smiled and kissed her gently on the nose, wrapping his arms around her neck.

“I promise Mama,”

* * *

 

Phil wrapped his arms around himself and stamped his feet, trying to get some warmth back into them. His breath curled around him prettily in the air and he thought back to what his mother had told him when he was very very young, before she fell in front of that carriage and his Da had drowned himself in liquor.

“Dragon’s breath!” she’d said brightly, blowing out to show him, “That’s what it is Phily!”

He smiled at the memory and ducked his head deeper in his coat, shuddering as a particularly cold wind went straight through him. He heard the door open with a ring and he looked up, turning to walk in.

“What’re you doing out here at this time son?” the grocer asked, ushering him inside off the snowy street, “The lamps haven’t even been put out yet!”

Phil shivered and pulled out the coins from his pocket counting them out.

“I missed you yesterday at closing time,” he gasped, his cheeks reddened by the wind and cold, “And the mistress wasn’t happy, sent me out first thing to get parsley,”

“Parsley?” the old man asked incredulously, “What’s so important about parsley?”

“We’ve got a guest comin’ and she wants everythin’ to be perfect and apparently you can’t have potatoes without parsley,”

The man grunted and pulled a sprig out for him and passed it over, it was only then Phil noticed he was in his nightclothes. The man saw him looking and laughed under his breath.

“We don’t open ‘til seven,” he explained taking Phil’s money and counting out the change, “The only reason I noticed you was because the lad likes to watch the lamplighters turnin’ them off, he was worried that you were frozen stiff so I came down to see what business you had standin’ out there. Good job I came when I did, your nose had gone blue,”

Phil was mortified to say the least and stammered his apologies, a blush spreading upwards from his neck.

“Don’t you mind it,” the grocer laughed, shooing him from the building, “The only reason you missed me yesterday was ‘cause I closed early! Now get back ‘ome before your mistress has any more reason to be mad at you,”

Phil thanked him profusely and started to make his way back, all the while wondering why some new student was worth sending one of your staff out to freeze to death and how on earth he could have forgotten what time the shops opened, as if he hadn’t worked at one for most of his childhood.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan stared out of the carriage window in surprise, he didn’t quite know what he had been expecting, but this was not it. He’d seen pictures of Eton and Rugby and heard plenty about them from his Papa and children of his friends, he was expecting something rather grand and this…this was  _not_. It looked like a rather large townhouse with dark foreboding windows, the only thing marking it as anything other than a normal house was a sign that read ‘Drew’s School for Boys’ and instead of a garden the small space in front was paved over like a yard.

Dan glanced over to Johnson who was smiling quite happily and as soon as the carriage stopped in front of the house, hopped out and began to speak to the driver. Dan suddenly got the sickly feeling that this wasn’t what he’d been told about and that Johnson knew that all too well. He clung onto his father’s pocket watch for comfort as he slowly got down from the carriage, making himself walk towards his stepfather who tipped the driver and turned to him, that unnerving grin still in place.

“Well boy?” he snapped, looking down at Dan who was starting to feel incredibly queasy, “What do you think?”

Dan thought about it for a bit, still looking up and down the building in trepidation.

“I don’t know sir,” he said honestly, his voice catching from disuse, “It-it isn’t quite what I was expecting,”

Johnson’s smile turned to a glare and he grabbed Dan’s lapel, pulling him roughly forwards.

“Pardon?” he hissed, shaking him, “What? Did you think I was going to waste my money on _Harrow_?”

Dan blanched and got onto his tiptoes to avoid falling, biting his lip again.

“Papa always said that when I went to school it’d be his old one, Rugby, sir,” he whispered, trying to stop himself from throwing up, “I-I thought I’d be going somewhere like that, but it doesn’t matter!”

“Too right it doesn’t!” he let Dan drop to his feet and clipped him on the back of the head, “Help him carry your cases in, I certainly won’t be doing it for you!”

And with that he stalked up the stairs into the school leaving Dan to try and pick up a case far too heavy for him before he was stopped by the driver who seemed to take pity on him.

“You jus’ take this,” he said, passing him a lighter suitcase, “I’ll get the rest lad,”

“Thank you,”

* * *

 

According to Cook the new boy was a lord, and according to her that meant he’d be rude and arrogant because ‘that’s how the high societies are don’t you know?’. Phil didn’t really know how that made him any different from the other students as in his experience they fit that description perfectly. Then again, Phil hadn’t met anybody more important than a board-member of the orphanage, and he’d been  _vile_  so maybe lords were even worse than that? Granted, Phil had messed up a lot and splashed him with a bucket of dirty water by mistake and called him ‘mister’ instead of ‘sir’, so the man was well within his right to be angry, but Phil wondered if he was like that all the time. After all, he  _was_ on the board of an orphanage, not exactly the nicest of occupations.

He decided just to take Cook’s word for it because she was smarter than him and he was too stupid to know how Lords behaved and stuff, or so she’d told him. Phil didn’t believe the last bit because he was far from stupid but for the sake of a quieter life he just didn’t say anything and kept those thoughts to himself.

He’d asked the footman, Joshua, about it because Josh’s sister was in service to a duchess and he’d said that the ones with blue blood were always awful and that the men were the worst and just took their staff for granted. Phil secretly thought that was true of the people he worked for now but he decided to heed it anyway, telling himself he’d be very wary of the new boy.

Phil was far too tired to be carrying the new student’s bags up the stairs and probably wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for the fact Mrs Barrymore had decided he needed to be put in his place, apparently carrying the bags of a member of the aristocracy would do just that. Every opportunity she got to lower him she took, at first he’d been hurt but now he just accepted it, as long as he was working for her he was fair game he figured. 

He looked down at his best clothes that he was made to wear whenever parents were going to be walking around the school and wondered how much trouble he’d be in if the mud from the chest managed to make its way onto his crisp white shirt.

“It’s such a shame,” he muttered to himself, wheezing as he tried to lift the far too heavy case, “To get my Sunday best so messy, makes you wonder why I’m made to wear it in the first place,”

Gasping, he took a few steps forwards up the stairs but slipped, forgetting the crooked step. He tumbled headfirst down them, only just managing to stop himself from slamming to the floor by throwing himself bodily into the banister, hitting his forehead hard enough to make him dazed. Unfortunately the case wasn’t so lucky and hit the ground with a thud sending the contents flying across the hall floor.

“No!” he squeaked, scrabbling to pick the clothing from the floor and shove it back without anybody noticing, one hand pressed to his aching head and the other throwing clothing and books in the air willy-nilly, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Philip!” Drew bellowed, stamping towards him at an alarming speed for a man his size, “What on earth do you think you’re doing boy?”

Phil got to his feet nervously, stammering apologies that were ignored and drowned in the shouting, his wrist was grabbed and he was pulled forwards, being shook hard, spit spraying his face. Soon enough the headmaster’s hand was raised as if to strike him and he braced himself for contact- but it never came.

“Ah! Please Mr Drew!” a boy with curly brown hair called as he dashed over, “It was a mistake I’m sure! I’ll help him sort it out sir, I’m sure Father still has some things he wants to go over?”

Phil watched in astonishment as Drew’s turned to look at the boy who was smiling rather worriedly, unsure of what to say. He roughly let go of Phil’s arm and pushed him to the side, turning to the smartly dressed boy, his face now a lighter shade of puce, all the while Phil’s eyes never left his handsome saviour.

“Ah, Johnson,” he said slowly, obviously trying very hard to calm himself down, “There’s no need to help the boy, he’ll clean it up himself then go  _straight to his room_ ,” Phil flinched back at the look of pure rage that was shot at him and nodded quickly, bowing low and falling to his bruised knees, hurrying to stuff the items away, “I’ll come through with you to your father right now,”

“Thank you sir,” he smiled brightly, the two of them walking back down the corridor leaving Phil confused but very grateful.

“So that’s the little lord then?” He muttered to himself, the image of the pretty aristocrat burned in his retinas.

* * *

 

Dan was tired of being polite and proper when all he really wanted to do was scream. Although he’d been reluctant to leave his mother he’d been excited at the prospect of a few months of being free from unfair punishment but it seemed that the headmaster, Mr Drew, was to be just as bad as his stepfather. Dan didn’t know quite what had possessed him to stop the man from hitting the peculiar boy in the corridor, usually he’d have shrunk back for fear of being hit himself, but there was something about the boy that intrigued him.

“-Daniel is very fond of his mother and barely leaves her side,” Johnson said, snapping Dan from his musings when he heard his name, “He’s used to being coddled quite a bit I’m afraid, I assume things will be different here?”

“Oh yes! Even lords get treated the same as the other pupils,” Dan flinched at that, wondering why Johnson had told the man of his title, “The only luxury the boy will have above the other students is his room; I assume that’s what you wish Mr Johnson?” Drew said rather pompously, sucking up to Dan’s stepfather so obviously the boy found it repulsive.

“Indeed, I wouldn’t have asked for a parlour room if it hadn’t have been for my wife, she insisted on it,” Johnson turned to Dan who was starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable, though people tend to when they’re the topic of conversation, “You have her wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

Dan blushed and shook his head, shaking a little at the feeling of the headmaster’s judgemental gaze.

“I love her very much sir,” he said diplomatically, deciding that disagreeing entirely would probably leave him with a bruise somewhere but agreeing would make him seem spoilt, “I just think she worries about me,”

Johnson snorted and gave him a glare, but the conversation continued on without Dan’s input, and for that he was extremely grateful.

* * *

 

Phil gaped in wonder at the young lord’s clothing, picking up one boot wistfully. Phil himself only had the two pairs, both of which were second-hand left behind by students who had since moved on. He gazed longingly at a pair of shining black boots with beautiful charcoal grey buttons up the side, the leather soft to the touch. He felt silly, being envious of somebody’s shoes was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t just the shoes though; there were silk waistcoats and fine handkerchiefs, perfectly tailored suits and socks without a single darn. While the boy’s wardrobe was expensive, it was quite dowdy and reserved. Yes, everything was well made, but there were no vibrant colours or flashy elements and, considering he was aristocracy, there wasn’t really that many clothes there. Phil had to admire the practicality of the clothing laid out before him though he did think it made the boy look as though he was in constant mourning. Still, it was perfect for school wear and fine enough for Phil to lust after so he was happy.

It wasn’t just the boy’s clothes that Phil had taken a fancy to, the lord himself had managed to steal Phil’s thoughts away and he couldn’t get his pretty brown eyes out of his head. Phil worried himself for a while thinking about how much bother he’d be in if anybody found out about the little crush he’d developed, cursing himself for having such thoughts about a boy of which he’d only gotten a glance. Eventually he managed to convince himself that his feelings were of fascination only, after all, it was the first time that anybody his own age had stood up for him, let alone a lord!

He began to pack things away into the rickety chest of draws and wondered at the fact the school actually accepted parlour boarders. Usually the boys shared a room between four, only the head boy getting his own bedroom. It had been years since anybody had requested to be a parlour boarder; the school wasn’t a particularly good one so it drew many boys who couldn’t afford other better places so they certainly couldn’t afford luxurious lodgings.

It had been Phil and Dina’s job to clean out the disused room and make it look the part, Miss Barrymore (Mr Drew’s widowed sister and the matron) screeching that it  _had_  to impress. It’d taken an age to get rid of the thick layer of dust that coated everything and to polish the metal grate of the fireplace until it shined. Phil had been in charge of doing all of the harder work and Dina had had all of the fun making it look pretty afterwards, adding brand new clean bedding and fresh flowers in a crystal cut vase that Phil had gazed at in wonder as it sent pretty rainbows shining across the walls when the light shone through.

Finally Phil finished putting the clothes away and smiled feeling satisfied with himself. He really hoped that the other boy liked it, after being rescued by him that morning he couldn’t help but think that perhaps lords weren’t so bad as Cook said, not that he’d ever dare tell her that though. He had a real soft spot for boys with curls anyway, and this one had big doe like brown eyes.

He was smitten.

* * *

 

Dan entered the common room with trepidation, not knowing quite what to expect. The only other children he’d played with were a few other young lords and the gardener’s daughter Annie, and that had been quite a few years ago. After his stepfather had appeared his Papa’s friends had ceased to visit and Annie had gotten engaged to the young clergyman (her being a few years older than Dan) and suddenly was too busy with wifely duties to visit her childhood playmate… that, and the fact she was embarrassed because when Dan had met her new husband he joked about years past when she’d worn short dresses and had a pet frog.

Dan resisted the urge to take out his father’s pocket watch and play with it in his hands, not wanting to walk in there with his comfort blanket. He steeled himself, stood tall, and opened the door with feigned confidence, a well-practiced neutral expression on his face.

The room went from loud chattering noise to complete silence, pale faces looking up at him with curiosity. One boy with dark auburn hair and a long, aristocratic nose got to his feet and swaggered over to him, arrogance oozing off of him. Dan caught a flash of a shiny ‘Head Boy’ badge on his lapel and looked up at him with a wary smile, hopeful that this was a welcome rather than an attack.

“You must be the little lord,” he said, looking down his nose at Dan, “I’m Thomas Ganz, I’m head boy,”

Dan felt his hope slowly fading but continued to smile regardless.

“I’m Daniel Johnson, it’s nice to meet you,”

He stuck his hand out but Thomas ignored it, instead looking him up and down with disdain. Dan dropped his hand and stuck his chin up defiantly; his whole body perfectly poised looking every inch the lord.

“I must say, we were expecting somebody…  _grander_ ,” the other boy said, stepping back with his hand in one pocket, still managing to look more aristocratic than Dan ever could despite the fact he was slouched, “Even your name sounds common,”

Dan was unable to resist rolling his eyes, earning quite a few laughs from the younger students with his exaggerated expressions.

“Really, Ganz?” he laughed mockingly, all of a sudden very angry, he was too tired and stressed for all of this, “You’re going to judge me on my appearance and name? We’ve only just met and I must say, based on first impressions, you aren’t doing that well yourself,”

Thomas bristled and the others in the room watched on with a mix of gleefulness and pity, Dan wondered quite what he’d gotten himself into.

“You’re lucky, Johnson,” he spat, stalking over to him and glowering down at him, “If you were anybody else I’d have given you a black eye but because you’re the current star pupil I can’t. That doesn’t mean things will be easy for you,”

Dan shook his head and folded his arms, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh! I understand now!” he said brightly, smiling with that fake dimple of his, “You’re jealous! I’ve taken away the attention from you and you’re envious… why I’m terribly sorry! You can have it all back, I assure you I don’t want it,”

His sarcastic comeback hadn’t done anything to redeem himself in Thomas’s eyes and Dan was certain he’d have had the lights knocked out of him if they hadn’t been called down to dinner at that exact moment. He spent the entirety of it looking down at his plate and not catching anybody’s eye, his mind preoccupied with other things.

* * *

 

“You should have seen it!” Phil said gleefully as he sat down in the kitchens for dinner with the other servants, “He was so neat ‘n tidy when he ate! Made the other boy’s look like animals,”

Dina rolled her eyes at him and took an aggressive, decidedly unladylike, bite out of her potato.

“Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts, eh?” she grumbled, “Bet you he’ll sink to be as messy as the others within the week,”

Phil shook his head and frowned a little, wondering why she insisted on dampening his mood. Joshua smiled at him from across the table.

“Ignore her Phil, I bet he’s a gentleman, didn’t he already do a knight in shinin’ armour and save you?”

The boy rolled his eyes and told the man to shut up but still felt a blush paint his cheeks, he ducked his head in an attempt to hide it but Dina noticed and started to tease him. He groaned and folded his arms.

“If someone had stopped  _you_  from getting in trouble we’d never have heard the end of it!” he snapped a tad more harshly than intended.

“Phil!” Cook hissed, causing Phil to flinch just from her tone of voice, “Don’t you start speaking to people like that! Know your place!”

“Yes ma’am,”

She glowered at him and pointed at him threateningly with her fork.

“You’re just asking for a slap you are,”

He  _hated_ when she said that. Who in the right mind would ask to be slapped? He wished he could just tell her how stupid she sounded but then he supposed he really  _would_ be asking for it. Joshua caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile to which Phil gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

For the rest of the meal Phil didn’t say another word and did the washing up on his own until late at night when everybody else had gone to bed. He didn’t complain though, his mind was too busy wandering to the little lord, and his saviour, upstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Dan made his way into the classroom, dread curling in his stomach making him want to be sick. At breakfast nobody had spoken to him and one of them had even laughed when he didn’t know how to say grace as he’d never done it before. He’d sat squirming in his seat, more embarrassed than he’d ever been and wanting the ground to swallow him up, the three tutors looking at him with concern.

He walked in the room and didn’t know where to sit, everybody was milling about talking to one another as the schoolmaster wasn’t there and he felt entirely out of place and unsure of himself. This was so different to any form of schooling he’d had growing up; his mother had taught him piano and French and he’d had tutors for everything else. He’d not been in a classroom before, he’d taken every lesson in the library or the gardens depending on the weather. This was all alien to him.

The room was brown, very brown, with desks in lines with a gap down the centre of the room. There were shelves lined with books and a chalkboard with Latin translations on it (Dan winced at how wrong some of it was), there were a few framed botanical illustrations on the wall and a single map of the world above the board, a cane balanced on the end of the teacher’s desk in plain sight. All in all, it was very much the sort classroom Dan had imagined but it still didn’t quite feel real, as though it was something out of a Dickens book rather than an actual thing.

He caught the attention of Ganz and his number-one crony, Monroe, and he found himself being pulled forwards by the tie and dragged to the front of the classroom. This was obviously going to be a public humiliation.

“You know there are rules about coming to class looking a mess,” Thomas remarked, almost casually, “I’d have thought you’d have been better than this Johnson but obviously I was mistaken,”

Dan straightened his tie aggressively, already knowing he was fighting a losing battle and wondering why the world seemed to have it in for him.

“You’re one to talk, Ganz,” he spat haughtily, looking into the other boy’s watery blue eyes with a new hatred, “How long has it been since you went for a suit fitting? That morning jacket looks as though you grew out of it years ago…. Actually, it doesn’t look as though it fit when you got it, is it second hand?”

There were a few sniggers at that and Dan couldn’t help but wonder where the words had come from, never in his life had he been so snobby. Dan was always saying things he didn’t mean when he was put on the spot, a nervous reflex, but it never failed to get him in trouble. The taller boy’s face darkened and before Dan knew it he had hands all over him, pulling and twisting at his clothes as he struggled to get free, his hair sticking up at all angles. Almost as quickly as it had begun the hands disappeared and he was left panting and flushed in the middle of the classroom wondering what on earth was going on.

“Johnson!” Dan jumped and turned on his heel to see Mr Brigshaw stood in the doorway, his face stony, “How dare you come to lessons looking so?”

Dan floundered for an explanation as he felt the bile begin to rise in his throat.

“Forgive me, sir,” he forced out, trying to straighten out his clothes as best he could, “I-I… um, I got lost and didn’t want to be late so I ran, sir. I promise it won’t happen again,”

Brigshaw looked him up and down sceptically but waved him off.

“Make sure it doesn’t,”

And with that, Dan was sent to sit on the second row of the classroom and he remained silent for the rest of the lesson, even as he felt a splat of ink hit the back of his head and heard a cruel whispered laugh that sounded too similar to Monroe for it to be a coincidence. The only thing Dan was certain of though was the fact that his brand new collar was ruined. He prayed his stepfather would never find out.

* * *

 

“Phil!” Mrs Barrymore screeched, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to his feet, “Where is my tea? I rang for assistance half an hour ago,”

Phil choked a little as he scrambled to his feet, dropping the shoe he was polishing on the floor in his haste.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he gasped as soon as she released him, “I thought Joshua had brought it up for you?”

He should have expected the slap really but he didn’t duck out of the way in time and she hit him square across the face. He stumbled back, his eyes watering from the shock.

“I’ll, um, I’ll go fetch it for you,” his voice became subdued and he bowed his head tiredly, “Do you wish to take it in your rooms miss?”

She looked at him and sighed in exasperation, folding her arms aggressively and glaring down her long hooked nose at him.

“Of course I do! What is the matter with you today boy?”

_~What’s the matter with you?~ _Phil thought as he scooped up his tin of polish and neatly placed the shoes to one side.

“Nothing miss! I’ll be there as quickly as possible!”

She simply grunted and flounced out of the kitchen, her shoes clacking obnoxiously on the stone floor. When the sounds of her footsteps had disappeared Cook peeked her head around the pantry door before pulling her sweetheart, the milkman, out and sitting him at the table. Phil shook his head disapprovingly as he began to boil the kettle, Cook glowered at him and grabbed his sandwich from the counter.

“Here you are my love,” she said in the most simpering sweet voice that made Phil think he’d be sick, “Made especially for you,”

Phil bit his tongue as the man took a bite of the sandwich Phil had made for himself and sent Cook a reproachful glance.

“What do you think you’re looking at?!” she snapped.

“Margery your cooking is amazing,” the milkman interrupted, licking his lips exaggeratedly, “You should be working at the palace!”

_~It’s only a sandwich and she didn’t even make it!~_ Phil thought to himself as he aggressively slammed a milk jug onto his tea tray,  _~That was my lunch… I ought to dob them in!~_

He finished setting up and wobbled out of the room with his too heavy tray without a word, steadfastly ignoring the two of them giggling sweet nothings into one another’s ears and mourning the loss of his lunch.

* * *

 

Dan stared at the library window watching each droplet of rain hit the glass and make its way slowly down the pane. He didn’t know quite why he was as homesick as he was because the home he missed wasn’t the one he’d left, rather the one he’d had four years ago when his Papa was still alive and his mother wasn’t so sick, before Johnson came along and forced him to take his name. He sighed and rested his cheek against the cool glass and tried to picture the last time he’d seen his mother’s face not lined with worry but he couldn’t see it clearly, it was as if every image of her he had in his mind was tainted with the sound of her pretty voice fretting over some worry or other or harsh coughs filled with blood covering the picture.

He heard somebody open the door roughly and walk into the room behind him and he jumped, turning his head to see who it was. The boy from the corridor was getting to his knees in front of the fire, adding more coal and stoking it, soaking up the warmth from the flames. He looked worn and ragged with dark rings under his eyes and a big bruise on his forehead, he looked exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Dan asked after a moment when the boy made no signs of moving, “Are you sick?”

The boy scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.

“Ah! Sorry sir! I was dosing off a second there sir, please forgive me!” his accent wasn’t what Dan was expecting, rather than the cockney the rest of the staff spoke with, this was less harsh and a lot more Northern.

“It’s fine, you weren’t bothering me,” Dan muttered, getting to his feet and walking over to him, “What’s your name? Mine’s Dan,”

The boy looked shocked for a moment before he gave a shy smile.

“Phil sir, Phil Lester,” he looked around the room nervously for a moment before continuing, “It’s nice to meet you sir,”

Dan rolled his eyes and cracked a smile, taking in all of Phil’s face, so pale with dark marks but those startlingly blue eyes.

“Call me Dan,” he insisted, looking at Phil’s arms, his shirt sleeves were rolled up and he could see the barely fading purple bruises in the shape of fingertips on his wrists, “I’m Daniel How- I mean, Daniel Johnson…”

Phil looked at him with confusion for a moment but nodded anyway.

“You’re the little lord, aren’t you?” Phil asked after a moment, looking at Dan’s expensive clothing longingly, “Mrs Barrymore was talking about you and how good it would be for the school that a lord was studying here,”

Dan considered it a moment then nodded, looking at Phil with curious eyes, the boy blushed scarlet and began to play with the hem of his shirt, avoiding Dan’s gaze.

“I’m not a lord yet though,” he explained, gesturing for Phil to sit beside him on the window seat, “But somehow it got around the school that I am, even though I’ve a different last name now,”

For a while they sat not saying anything before Phil plucked up the courage to continue.

“If you don’t mind me saying so sir, you’re very serious, it doesn’t suit a boy your age to be so solemn,”

Dan laughed and shook his head in disbelief.

“Where did that come from? We’ve only just started to speak Phil! How do you know I’m serious? I could be as silly as a goose!”

Phil ducked his head and blushed even harder, bringing a bit of colour to the otherwise black and white canvas that was his skin.

“Begging your pardon sir, I didn’t mean to offend…” he looked so earnest that Dan didn’t know what to say, “You see, all the boys are talking about you, saying you’re very quiet and cold. Cook said that you were too clever for them but I don’t know how she’d know… Cook says a lot about things she dun’t know anything about,”

Dan laughed at Phil’s indignant pout and felt himself becoming quite affectionate for the boy he’d only just made acquaintances with, snorting when the older boy realised what he was doing and grinned back, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth. It was then Dan began to consider what the boy had actually said and he looked confusedly out of the window, lost in thought.

“I don’t mean to be,” he said honestly, “I suppose I think too much and worry about things I shouldn’t, but that’s it… none of the other boys like me anyway, especially after Ganz had finished with his verbal lashing… Mr Drew said I was insolent because I corrected him on his Latin translation, but I’m certainly not the most clever here Phil! I’m feeling rather self-conscious now,”

“Oh don’t sir!” Phil said quickly, his eyes widening in worry, “I never meant you were too clever in a bad way sir!”

“Call me Dan,” he insisted again, sounding quite petulant even to himself.

“As long as Mr Drew or Mrs Barrymore or one of the school masters don’t hear, I’ll call you Dan, sir, if you say so, sir!” Phil was all embarrassed and upset with himself, tripping over his words as he tried to make Dan feel better.

Dan smiled apologetically and looked at Phil, who was trying so very hard to please him, with a fondness he didn’t know he was capable of feeling over anybody but his mother.

“It’s okay Phil, call me whatever you’re comfortable with, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble over me,”

Phil smiled brightly and Dan felt a sudden pang in his chest, it was the warmest anybody had been with him since he’d arrived at the school and it felt wonderful. He looked deep into Phil’s big blue eyes and felt a rush of happiness at the fact that he might have found someone willing to be his friend.

“Should I call you sire?” Phil asked cheekily, his head tilted coyly to one side, “Or maybe Prince Daniel?”

Dan snorted and batted the other boy playfully on the arm.

“No!” he laughed, shaking his head with a smile, “That’s just silly! Anyway, I’m not even a  _lord_ yet,”

Phil smiled happily and leant back against the window frame, thinking about how lovely the younger boy looked, when he noticed a blot of ink on his collar, his face fell.

“Oh they didn’t do it again, did they sir?” he asked sadly, gesturing to his neck, “Some of those boys are awful! Not gentlemen at all!”

Dan grimaced and nodded, biting his lip.

“Thomas Ganz doesn’t like me so that means nobody likes me… how did you know it had happened before?”

“It’s me that cleans your shirts sir,” Phil explained, a sympathetic expression still on his drawn face, “Took me twenty minutes to get the stains out last time, Dina was angry with me because I spent so long doing it,”

The younger felt very guilty, his mind filled with images of Phil scrubbing away for hours and getting chastised for it. He bowed his head in apology.

“I’m sorry Phil, I didn’t think about the fact someone would actually have to clean it, Mary always does that sort of thing at home,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper, “I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble,”

Phil was touched at his concern but brushed it off easily.

“In trouble with Dina?” he giggled, “Oh I’m  _always_ in trouble with Dina, everybody is. That girl’s the grumpiest person on this earth I tell you!”

The little carriage clock on the mantel piece began to toll and Phil swore under his breath in alarm.

“’scuse me sir!” he groaned, scooping up his tray and heading towards the door, “If I don’t hurry I’ll miss the market closing and I’m already in enough trouble because of the mistress’s tea!”

“Wait!” Dan called, getting abruptly to his feet and letting his book fall gracelessly to the ground, “Will you be here tomorrow?”

Phil beamed and nodded excitedly.

“I do the fires in here every day ‘cept Wednesday and Sunday,” he opened the door with one hand as he balanced the heavy tray on one knee with such practiced ease Dan was astonished, “See you around then Dan, sir,”

“Ah! See you tomorrow Phil!”

As soon as the door closed behind the serving boy Dan collapsed to his seat, a silly smile on his face for the first time in many years. He knew one thing for certain, he’d make sure that he was in the same spot tomorrow no matter what.

* * *

 

“For a lord ‘e doesn’t seem to have much,” Joshua commented, looking out of the kitchen window as the boy’s walked in orderly lines to chapel, Dan at the front next to the head boy, the grey fabric of his coat seeming dowdy next to the royal blue of the other boy’s, “I asked him where his cape was this morning when I was helpin’ him put his coat on and he all flushed like, an’ said he didn’t have one, what kind of lord doesn’t have a cape?”

Phil looked up from the potatoes he was peeling and thought about it for a minute.

“Maybe he’s not a rich lord?” he offered, thinking about the clothes Dan usually wore, “Or maybe he just isn’t flashy? I don’ know, his clothes are fine but they look so plain compared to the others,”

The man turned back from the window and looked down at him, one eyebrow raised.

“And when ‘ave you been looking at his clothes?” he teased, hitting him upside the back of his head when he past, grinning at the frown he received in response, “Is somebody jealous?”

“No!” Phil snapped, shaking his head in an attempt to sort out his hair but only succeeding in making it messier, “But you tend to notice that sort of thing when you’re starching his shirts,”

Joshua laughed cruelly and shook his head.

“Yeah yeah Lester,” he said, smiling at the flinch he got at using Phil’s last name, “I think you’ve taken a fancy to him,”

The boy went white and froze, his head snapping up.

“No I haven’t!” he protested, his mouth dry, “Please don’t even joke about it Josh, if Cook hears you she’ll tell Mr Drew and then I’ll be in for it! Don’t say stuff like that!”

“What’s the problem?” the footman said, visibly deflating, “I was just joking with you! Bloody hell Phil, keep reactin’ like that and people’ll think it’s true!”

Phil’s shoulders dropped and he leant his elbow on the table, propping his chin up.

“It’s not you who’ll be sent to the workhouse if you’re accused of stuff like that,” he pointed out tiredly, “Remember when that candlestick went missing and everybody thought it was me and it turned out to be that banker’s son?”

“Yeah?”

“Well not only did I get the belt somethin’ awful, I was sent to pack my bags because I was going to be sent away, if his roommate hadn’t dobbed him in I’d be there right now,” Phil shuddered at the memory and subconsciously lifted one hand to run it over the scar on his right shoulder where the buckle on Drew’s belt had slipped, cutting into him deep, “I’m terrified of it Josh, I swear! That orphanage was bad enough, apparently it’s even worse in the poor house,”

The footman looked suitably chastised and nodded, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one, Phil wrinkled his nose in distaste and got back to work, peeling away contentedly. They sat in companionable silence for a while, both lost in thought, before Joshua plucked up the courage to say something more.

“I always wondered why you put up with all of this crap,” he muttered, gesturing around the kitchen and eyeing Phil’s ragged clothing, “You don’t get paid even as much as a scullery maid an’ you do twice the work, you wear rags-“

“-Hey!” Phil protested irritably, throwing down his peeler on the table and standing up, finished with his potatoes, “I take good care of my clothes thank you very much! I stitch and patch ‘em and they’re always clean! It’s not my fault they weren’t in great condition when they were given to me!”

“Exactly! You were given old clothes, a room cold enough to freeze, an’ you’re always getting shoved around!” Joshua continued, taking a deep drag and closing his eyes in bliss, “Was the orphanage that bad? ‘Least you were guaranteed a meal,”

The boy stiffened but continued with his work, starting chopping carrots and keeping his eye on the clock.

“I get paid out here,” he explained, narrowly missing losing a finger when he chopped too vigorously, “And I didn’t in there. To be fair, I used to earn more when I worked for the grocer back in Manchester before Da died… But still, earning something is better than earning nothing, you know? And that means I can save up, and then maybe I can move onto a better job and then maybe I could move up to an even better one until one day I’m butler at some fancy house by the sea with a little cottage and a dog,”

Joshua laughed and rolled his eyes fondly.

“A dog? You’re goin’ ta work your way up to bein’ a butler, just so you can get a dog?”

“Or a cat, or a chicken, or a rabbit,” Phil said, smiling sadly, “I don’t really care, I just want a house and a pet and enough money to see me through my old age,”

Joshua nodded just as the bell for the headmaster’s private rooms began to ring, sighing, he got to his feet, stubbed his cigarette, and ruffled Phil’s hair.

“Sounds like a nice little dream you got there,”

And with that he dashed up the stairs, leaving Phil to chop carrots and gaze out of the window, thinking about a life far, far away from his own.

* * *

 

“Sir? Dan, are you alright?”

Dan jumped and looked up from his textbook, his eyes tired and weary. It was just after dinner and Phil had gone to sweep up the schoolroom, he hadn’t expected to find Dan with his head buried in a book. The young lord smiled tiredly and ran his fingers through his curly hair.

“Yes, I’m just translating this mess,” he muttered, gesturing at his book with a frustrated pout, “I was staring out of the window again and Mr Brigshaw caught me,”

Phil jokily tutted and shook his head, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Honestly sir! Young lords like you should know better!”

“I’ve been  _terribly_  dreadful, haven’t I?” Dan grinned sarcastically, “I should be ‘setting an example’! But no, instead I waste my days gazing out of the window,”

Phil giggled and started sweeping up, deciding it was probably best to clean and talk at the same time.

“I thought you liked Latin, sir?”

“Oh I do, I just saw you going out on an errand,” Dan explained, setting his pen down and wincing at the spot of ink that splattered on the corner of his page, “You looked like you were going to blow away, you’re so thin Phil,”

Phil snorted as he swept around Dan’s desk, flicking him casually on the back of the head.

“So it’s my fault you have to stay behind? Everything’s my fault at the moment,” he paused in his cleaning for a moment and leant thoughtfully on his broom, “Some ham went missing this morning and Cook screamed at me for ages, then Mrs Barrymore came down and had a go at me about it as well,”

“Was it you?”

“No it wasn’t!” Phil seemed very offended that Dan would even think that, “I’m not stupid, if I’m going to steal food it in’t goin’ to be from here! And besides, the baker’s down the street throws away bread that’s only a little stale every day, I just take it from their bins,”

Dan wrinkled his nose but Phil seemed not to notice as he carried on talking.

“It turned out that it’d gone off and Dina had chucked it, nobody even apologised to me!” he turned to Dan and threw his hands up in the air, letting go of his broom and then yelping when it clattered to the floor, “Can you believe it? They didn’t even get mad at her!”

The brown haired boy shook his head at Phil’s antics and sighed sadly.

“It wasn’t very nice of them, poor Philip!” Dan cooed, “They’re just soooo mean to you!”

Phil pouted.

“Imagine if I laughed at Ganz when he picked on you,” he said reproachfully, “I know for a fact he upturned your inkwell over your work last week and I was nothing but nice to you,”

“How did you even know about that? I didn’t tell you,”

“I came and scrubbed the most of it off your desk… It’s okay, it’s my job,” when Dan muttered a thank you Phil was secretly ecstatic but he didn’t let it show.

“Yes, but idiots like Ganz shouldn’t be making it harder,” Dan was livid at the thought of Phil once again cleaning up the head boy’s mess, “I don’t know why he dislikes me so, from the moment he met me he hated me,”

“You’re just lucky he hasn’t set Monroe on you,” Phil pointed out, sitting on the desk beside Dan, “One boy left because Monroe beat him up behind the yard, it was awful,”

Dan pulled out his pocket watch and fiddled with it, staring down at its smooth surface.

“I bet my stepfather hit’s harder than him, nothing I can’t handle. And besides, as long as I have the strong, fearsome Phil Lester with me he’ll keep away,” he joked morbidly, slipping the clock back in his pocket but still tracing over it with his fingertips.

“Shut up! Now get on with your work, you’ll be up all night if you don’t hurry up,” Phil laughed, picking his brush back up and shaking his head at Dan’s dreadful sense of humour.

“Yes sir sorry sir,” he grumbled, picking up his pen again and glaring down at the text, his eyes going fuzzy, “Ugh! I can’t do it anymore! My mind’s gone all out of focus and it’s making it difficult. Say, Phil, can you translate this bit for me?”

Phil looked at him as though he were mad.

“I’ve never learnt Latin, sorry sir. I know some French though!”

Phil seemed so proud of himself that Dan just  _had_  to hear it.

“Go on then,”

“Fraises,” he said happily, his tongue poking through his teeth, “It means strawberries,”

“And… um, where did you learn that?” Dan asked, completely bewildered but not wanting to put a dampener on Phil’s mood.

“At the grocers, my boss used to import these posh ones from France every summer because a lady in one of the snobby townhouses insisted that they tasted the best and then all her friends wanted them too,” Phil smiled at the memory as he sat down on one of the desks and gazed off into space, “They used to come in this big crate with ‘FRAISES’ written on the side, it was really exotic! I tried one once when nobody was lookin’ and they were so sweet, the nicest thing I’ve ever eaten,”

After hearing Phil’s little story, Dan suddenly realised that there were so many things he didn’t know about Phil. They’d never really had that many chances to talk, only catching small conversations here and there, but he’d felt as though they’d managed to find out a lot, now he felt as though he knew nothing at all.

“When did you work for a greengrocer?”

“Oh, years ago now! It was when I was back in Manchester, I was about… I was  _twelve_ , I loved that place,” he became sad as he remembered it, the owner was so nice to him there and he was paid a decent wage, he missed it a lot more than he would ever admit, “Aren’t you impressed with my knowledge though, sir? I bet I could go far in France with that,”

“Yup, you’d live only off strawberries and would be known as Strawberry Boy,”

The two started to bicker and mess around, Dan calling Phil ‘Fraises Boy! Fraises Boy!’ and Phil calling Dan ‘Latin Face!’ (even  _he_  had to admit it was a pretty dreadful comeback). They didn’t realise how loud they’d become until the door slammed open to reveal Mr Brigshaw looking incredibly confused and irritated while Dan and Phil simply froze, Phil holding Dan in a headlock and ruffling up his hair.

All was silent for a moment before the two boys sprung apart and began to stammer excuses, the both of them red faced and panting.

“I don’t care,” Brigshaw snapped, effectively shutting the pair of them up, “Phil, go finish doing your chores, you know full well you’re not permitted to speak to the pupils, Johnson, come here with your copybook,”

Phil picked up his brush and sent Dan an apologetic look before he quickly scarpered, leaving behind a very shaky and queasy young lord.

Dan began to hyperventilate and he had to work very hard to calm himself down, it wasn’t the first time he’d been in trouble at school, but it was the first time he’d been on his own for his punishment and it reminded him too much of home. While one hand pinched his leg to try distract himself, the other pulled out his pocket watch again and he played with it. When too much time had passed for ‘I was tidying my inkwell away’ to work as an excuse, he picked up his book with shaking hands and turned around.

“I’m sorry sir,” he said levelly as he forced himself forwards, “Phil came in to clean the classroom and I distracted him, it’s my fault,”

The teacher shook his head and snatched the book from Dan’s hands, scanning over it looking impressed, albeit begrudgingly.

“Although you haven’t finished, the work you’ve done is very good,” he said seriously, “You work hard when you’re not distracted Johnson. Why you had to ruin it by play fighting with a servant I don’t quite understand,”

“I was… I got bored Mr Brigshaw, Phil was just there so I um… I distracted him,”

Dan was still short of breath and internally wondering why he hadn’t been shouted at and hit yet, usually now was about the time his stepfather would lose patience and force him over the desk. The only thing Dan could be happy about was the fact he might have gotten Phil out of trouble, although Brigshaw didn’t seem too concerned about him and instead was still looking over his workbook.

The tutor merely raised one eyebrow and folded his arms.

“Why were you shouting ‘fraises’ at the boy?” he asked tiredly, “Really Johnson, I expect better of you,”

Dan prickled with shame and he knew a blush was rising to his cheeks, he ducked his head and muttered an apology but it went ignored. His head was spinning and he wanted nothing more than to be sick, the only thing calming him was the familiar beat of his old watch.

“This time I’ll let it slide, but the next you can expect a letter home and more of a punishment than extra translations,”

Dan felt faint at the thought of a letter home, he could almost see the look on Johnsons’ face as he read it, he shuddered at the thought and nodded at his teacher gratefully.

“Thank you sir, I’ll be better next time,”

“I know you will, now off you go,”

Brigshaw watched Dan hurry from the room and shook his head, the boy was an enigma. He went from speaking to none of his classmates and quaking in fear whenever somebody spoke to him, to playing with the servants and even happily teasing and joking. The tutor decided to add this incident to his list of ‘things that made Daniel Johnson a strange boy’, he thought he might label it ‘Fraises’.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thank you,” Dan said quietly, smiling at Phil as he served him his soup.

His end of the table went silent, all of the boys looking at him as if he were mad.

“Why did you thank him?” a boy called Jones asked, “Nobody ever thanks Phil, do you thank your servants at home?”

Ganz laughed haughtily.

“Oh I bet his lordship only thanked him to show the rest of us up, isn’t that right Johnson?”

Phil rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and moved over to the staff table to give the French tutor more food; he raised his eyebrows at Dan and shrugged.

“I always thank people, Jones,” Dan said, ignoring the head boy, “It’s only polite, isn’t it? I always think it’s so rude when people just ignore waiters, don’t you?”

“But it’s perfectly fine to ignore people actually of your status, hmn?” Ganz snapped, irritated at being snubbed.

Dan being Dan refused to acknowledge him until he felt a sharp pain in his leg.

“Kicking me? Really? How juvenile Ganz,” he felt another hard thump as Monroe sniggered and he just clenched his teeth and glowered at the pair of them, loath to bring attention to himself by complaining.

Dan frowned into his soup trying his hardest to ignore the kicks to his shin that Monroe was childishly sending his way and to actually eat the slop that sat in his bowl before him. As Phil passed opposite him ladling some more of the murky liquid into another boy’s bowl he caught Dan’s eye and gave him a sympathetic grimace. Dan smiled gently and pretended to sip at some then gag making the other boy giggle before pretending to stick his fingers down his throat.

“Philip!” Barrymore screeched, making everybody in the dining room jump, including Phil who dropped his ladle, “What on earth do you think you are doing boy?”

“Ah! I um… I’ve a sore throat ma’am,” he improvised, sending Dan a terrified look, “Sorry, I’ll be more discreet about it next time,”

The glare she gave him was murderous but she said no more and let Phil continue on with his work. Dan mouthed an apology but Phil waved it off with a grin and picked up his ladle. It was just then Monroe kicked Dan’s leg particularly hard making him jump back reflexively and knock the table making the plates clatter down and soup slosh everywhere. Dan cringed as all eyes turned to him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Phil said quickly, grabbing a rag and dabbing at the mess, “I caught the table with my foot, I’ll get it cleaned up right away-“

“-OUT! Get out now!”

Mrs Barrymore looked as though she’d blow a gasket and Phil wasn’t stupid enough to go against her. He dropped his bowl and ladle on the table and scarpered quickly.

Dan hadn’t felt more thankful in his life. Ganz gave him a self-satisfied smirk and leant forwards.

“He’ll probably get punished now you know,” he whispered cruelly, delighting in how pale Dan went, “And it’ll be all  _your_  fault. Bet you wished you really  _had_ just ignored him, don’t you?”

The young lord didn’t say another word. He sat there in silence for the rest of dinner and couldn’t eat another bite, he was too terrified he’d be sick from guilt.

* * *

 

Dan sat at one of the desks in the common room and pulled out his half-finished letter, skimming over it and frowning at some of the blatant lies he’d told. He really didn’t want his Mama or Mary to worry about him, the idea of his already sick mother fretting about him at home was enough to make him want to cry so he fabricated anecdotes and wove in tales of good marks in attempt to make his school life seem as happy as possible. It was only a month until a two week break when he could see her again, he prayed his letters full of white lies were enough to tide her over.

Her letters were just as full of lies as his, though hers were more apparent. According to her everything was brilliant at home;  _‘Edward told me a terribly amusing joke the other day, Bear, oh how we laughed!’_  and  _‘Edward bought me a new gown!’_  and  _‘Today Edward and I went for a stroll by the lake, I’m feeling ever so much better Daniel dear!’_  things so obviously untrue if you knew the man in question. Dan couldn’t wait to be home, he couldn’t wait to be in his beloved Mama’s arms and he didn’t know if once there he could bear to leave her. It had been almost two weeks since he’d last gotten a letter from her and he was starting to get worried, wondering if Johnson was stopping her writing them.

He held onto his father’s watch again and let its constant ticking sooth him, it was the only thing (other than the promise of time to chat with Phil) that calmed him nowadays, and that scared him a little. He wished he wasn’t always so on edge, he hated that the slightest noise made him jump and that more often than not he’d lose his dinner because he’d gotten himself so stressed and churned up he’d vomited. He rested his head in one hand and continued to click open and closed his watch.

“What’s that you got there Johnson?” Monroe leered, snatching his letter up from the table, “Oh! A letter for ‘Mama’ is it?”

Dan rolled his eyes and tried to snatch it back but Monroe quickly moved out of the way, passing the letter to Ganz who skimmed over it with a sneer.

“ _’I’ve made lots of good friends!’_ ” he read in a high posh voice that sounded nothing like Dan at all, “Really Johnson? Because other than the servant boy I don’t think there’s a single person here who likes you at all,”

Dan ignored the pang he felt in his chest at that statement and instead snorted, getting to his feet and stalking over to the much taller boy.

“I worry for your future, I really do,” he tilted his head and gave his cruellest smirk, “You have fun with your little sheep, Ganz, one day they won’t be around you and you’ll realise how few people actually like  _you_ ,”

He snatched the letter from the boy’s hands and turned to walk away when he was grabbed by the collar and jerked back. He coughed as he tried to twist himself free from the other’s grasp but only succeeded in making it harder to breathe, eventually he went limp and fixed Ganz with a glare.

“Let go of me now,” he hissed, his hands clenching into fists, “Let me go now or I’ll-“

“-You’ll what? Tell your ‘Mama’?” Thomas sneered at him and shook him hard, “Go cry to her in a letter, see what good it does you here,”

Dan was so angry he thought he might scream. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that obnoxious smirk off the other boy’s face. He swung out his leg and gave a well-aimed kick, pulling himself free when the boy doubled over in pain, he also managed to duck out of the way as Monroe sprang to his friend’s aid and tried to land a blow on him. He shoved his letter hastily into his pocket and ran for the door.

He kept running and running, ignoring every rule against it as he was unable to stop. He threw himself through the door to the library and slammed it behind him, sliding to the floor with his back against it. He curled there panting for some time, his eyes tightly shut, he only opened them when he heard a polite cough.

“Sir?”

“Oh! Phil, hello,” Dan placed one hand on his chest and smiled falsely, “You startled me there,”

Phil looked up from his paper stacking with concern and walked over to him, offering his hand.

“Why were you running? Was it Ganz again?” Phil was strangely intimidating when he was angry, usually he looked like an innocent child but as soon as he was crossed it was as though a switch had flipped, “What did he do to you? Did he set Monroe on you?”

“It was nothing like that Phil, honest,” he said hurriedly, holding his hands up in an attempt to placate, “They were just being cruel about my letter to my mother, I handled it! Look, no bruises,”

Phil didn’t look too convinced but let it drop, pulling the other boy to his feet.

“Thank you, by the way,” Dan said earnestly, “You didn’t get in too much trouble over dinner did you? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you did,”

Phil smiled as he guided Dan to their usual window seat and sat down.

“No, Mrs Barrymore’s too preoccupied with other things to bother with me. Cook looked like she was going to shout at me, mind, but Dina sent me up here and told me to sort out all this paper,”

Dan looked to the table where the mess of sheet music was scattered, some of it even strewn across the floor. He gasped and went to pick some up, wincing at the creases and swearing under his breath when he picked up a sheet with a distinct boot mark across it.

“Who did this?” he asked angrily.

“I don’t know sir, Dina said she came up to close the curtains and found it like this,” he frowned sadly, “It’s okay, I’m sorting it out! I’m stacking it so I can put it all in order later,”

“You shouldn’t have to though Phil, whoever did this should! Why does everybody just try to make your life more difficult?”

Phil laughed softly at that and joined Dan on the floor picking up the papers.

“I’m just unlucky I guess!”

The two picked up most of the music and had begun to sort it bit by bit when Phil suddenly froze, terrified. Both boys looked at each other as the familiar sound of footsteps made their way across the wooden floor of the corridor.

“Dan, sir, you’ve got to hide!” he hissed, “Barrymore’s coming!”

Dan jumped to his feet and anxiously looked about the room, diving for the thick curtain by the far window. He barely had chance to cover himself when the almost skeletal woman flung the door open and stormed in, her hair wild as it slipped from her usually severe bun.

“Boy!”

Phil pretended to be startled as he looked up, getting up fluidly and placing some of the sheet music on the table beside him.

“Yes ma’am?” he said softly, his shoulders slumped and his eyes trained on the floor, “Can I help you?”

She was flush with anger as she slammed her hand on the table, knocking off some of the papers in her aggression.

“I asked Dina where you were and I’m not surprised to find you fooling about making a mess-“

“-I didn’t do this!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

Phil took a step back as she screamed, his whole body tensing. His eyes darted over to the curtain where Dan was hiding and he was filled with dread, he didn’t want the other boy to see what was going to happen, he couldn’t bare it.

“Sorry ma’am-“

“You better be! What was that earlier? I’ve a good mind to have you whipped you’ve been so insolent recently! What has gotten into you?”

Phil bit his lip and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down but failing abysmally.

“I know today isn’t the best for you, but I’m trying my hardest I swear-“

-SLAP!

Phil yelped as she struck him across the cheek with the back of her hand, suddenly going into a frenzy.

“How  _dare_ you?!”

From the other side of the room Dan stared on in horror. Phil ducked out of the way of yet another slap and muttered his apologies but the woman didn’t listen and scratched at him suddenly. Dan had thought Johnson was bad, this was on a whole other level. Mrs Barrymore was screeching at him and shaking him so hard his teeth rattled, at one point she even had a hold of his hair.

“Clean this mess up at instant!” she shrieked, forcing him down onto his knees, “I can’t be dealing with this today!”

Phil’s expression was murderous but he simply nodded and got to work.

“Yes  _miss_ ,”

His choice of words were obviously wrong as she slapped him again and stormed out of the room, if Dan had been paying closer attention to her he’d have noticed she was crying. When her footsteps died down he plucked up the courage to come out from behind the curtain, not surprised to see Phil quaking, though he thought it was out of fear and really it was out of anger.

“What was that?!” he gasped, walking his way over, “What did you do to make  _that_ happen?”

Phil simply shrugged, prodding at his cheek gently.

“Oh I wound her up, she’s having a bad day Dan, just leave it,”

“Phil, why do you forgive her so easily?” Dan asked with a sigh, looking down at the servant who was collecting up the fallen papers resignedly, “She’s horrible all the time but she’s even fouler today and you haven’t complained once, I can’t believe she humiliated you like that at dinner! And she scratched you! The woman’s like a temperamental cat,”

“Banshee more like… And I wouldn’t say humiliated, it wasn’t that bad,”

Dan breathed heavily and got on his knees beside the other boy, helping him stack the papers.

“I can’t believe that woman is supposed to be matron, she’s got the least caring demeanour I’ve ever seen,” Dan said, looking intently at the scratch marks on Phil’s cheek, “I wondered why the boys never refer to her as it, probably because they’re too scared she’ll scream at them if they get sick!”

Phil sniggered at that and punched Dan lightly on the arm.

“Don’t be silly, if anybody gets ill she makes sure they’re okay and she sorts out things like medication and stuff… she just isn’t the softest person,”

“If I were you I’d have cried,” Dan said without a hint of shame, looking at him with a frown, “She was terrifying!”

“Yeah, well… today isn’t the best day for her,” Phil whispered, raising one hand to his cheek and wincing when he brushed against the welts left by Barrymore’s claw like nails, “I should have known better than to call her ‘miss’, that was cruel of me,”

***

_It was midway through Phil’s first year working for the school and he’d quickly become as much a part of the school as the ugly faded wallpaper in the corridor, forgotten about most of the time but when noticed complained about and ridiculed._

_He placed down his basket of fresh linen and opened the door to Mrs Barrymore’s rooms without a thought, humming under his breath as he scooped the bedclothes back up and waltzed in. He stopped in confusion when he heard a muffled sob coming from the armchair by the fire._

_“Is anyone there?” he asked tentatively, regretting not knocking._

_There was a shift and the crinkle of stiff fabric as the woman emerged from her seat, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. Phil took a step back and began to murmur his apologies, stumbling over himself to open the door, but he stopped as soon as she began to sob and collapsed back into the chair. He was startled for a moment before he dropped his basket to the floor and carefully crept his way across the room._

_“I-I’m sorry ma’am,” he stammered, awkwardly waving his hands about as he didn’t quite know what to do with them, “Is there anything I can do for you?”_

_She wailed and grasped her handkerchief to her chest, her long black mourning dress in disarray and her hair wild about her head._

_“Pour me some tea!” she hiccupped, calming down a little._

_Phil jumped to do as he was told and hastily picked up the teapot from the side table, wincing when he splashed by mistake. Mrs Barrymore didn’t seem to notice though as she was too wrapped up in her own emotions. Phil didn’t know what to say or do so he just stood there and waited, shifting from foot to foot until eventually she calmed down enough to sip at her tea. She gestured for Phil to sit down with a wave of her hand but as there was no other chair for him to perch on he knelt on the floor opposite her, wincing at the ache in his knobbly knees._

_“If you speak a word of this to anyone Phil I swear I’ll have your hide,” she hissed, her long curved nose dripping and her eyes puffy from crying, “Do you understand?”_

_“Yes miss!” he said quickly, his expression earnest, “I’m sorry I came in… I didn’t realise today was the day…”_

_She looked at him sharply and let her teacup clatter gracelessly to its saucer._

_“Today was the day what?” she laughed mirthlessly, “That my husband left me without a care? That today was the day my life was ruined?”_

_“I… I’m sure that he loved you very much miss, he-he didn’t_ mean _to die,”_

_“He didn’t die!” she said, her voice so shrill it even shocked her, “The bastard left me… He left me! How could he be so cruel? Tell me Phil!”_

_It was then the boy caught a whiff of the alcohol in her breath, the scent was all too familiar to him and he shifted back a little, just out of arms reach. She wailed again and began to swear under her breath like a sailor, Phil wrinkled his nose in distaste. It was all too similar to his Da after his mother died._

_“I don’t know ma’am,” he said tiredly, trying to be comforting but at the same time incredibly wary, “I’m… I’m really sorry,”_

***

“So he didn’t die?” Dan gasped, revelling in the thought of a scandal about his current least favourite person, “He left her? Ooh! And she’s so uppity about being proper and  _she_  lied about being a widow!”

Phil frowned at him and snatched the remaining papers out of his hands.

“There’s no need to sound so gleeful about it, sir. The poor woman was disgraced, no wonder she’s so angry all the time,”

The lord raised one eyebrow and whistled.

“I wish I was as forgiving as you, you must have a heart of gold to be nice to that old crone! Are you forgetting she tried to claw your eyes out?”

Phil laughed at that, looking at Dan disapprovingly.

“Now, now, my eyes are still there aren’t they? Anyway, there isn’t anything I can do about the whole thing, is there? She’s my boss and she decided whether I get paid or not so I’m not going to go complaining. It’s safer to just take it and stay out of her way until she calms down,”

Phil took the remaining sheets of music from Dan’s hands and got to his feet with a huff, stretching like a cat.

“Now, I must be off now or else I won’t get any dinner,” he smiled overly sweetly down at Dan who was still sat on the floor staring bemusedly up at him, “See you tomorrow sir?”

“Erm… Yes, I guess?”

But Phil had already vanished out of the door and left him on his own, staring after him with bewilderment.

* * *

 

For the next few weeks the two boys managed to see each other for at least fifteen minutes on a near daily basis, Phil slowly getting used to calling Dan by his name with only the occasional ‘sir’ and Dan learning more about life downstairs and getting the latest gossip from the kitchens. The flirting also got more frequent until they were openly complimenting each other and even slipping one another the occasional gift; Dan’s in the form of food and books and Phil’s little things like flowers he’d picked from the neighbours’ garden or a pretty button he’d managed to nick from Dina’s sewing tin. While Dan didn’t approve of the little thefts he appreciated the thought behind the gifts and pressed each pansy in his disused Bible and threaded the button on a thin chain and attached it to his father’s pocket watch.

It was one of their stolen quarter hours that Dan’s home life came up in the form of a letter. Dan held the neat envelope close to his chest before pressing it into Phil’s hands with great urgency.

“Phil please post this for me!” he begged, his face ashen, “I’ve heard nothing from my mother for over a fortnight and I’ve just received a letter from Mary telling me her health has deteriorated, you must help me!”

Phil took in Dan’s wild and worried eyes and messy hair and accepted the letter without another thought, wanting only to make him feel better. He sat down beside him on their usual window seat and took a hold of one of his hands in a manner he hoped was comforting.

“I’ll deliver it before my errands,” he promised, squeezing Dan’s much too bony hand, “I didn’t know your mother was ill, sir,”

“She started getting ill a few years ago before Papa died, she’s gotten much worse of late though and I’m so worried about her,” he ducked his head to avoid letting Phil see the tears that pricked his eyes threatened to spill over, “That man can only be making things worse!”

Phil was confused but didn’t say anything, instead continuing to rub soothing circles on the back of the other’s hands in an attempt to calm him down. Eventually Dan’s erratic breathing normalised enough for him to let out a shaky sigh.

“Father hurts her,” he said, his face ashen and his voice wobbling, “He’s more careful than he is with me, he only hits her where you can’t see the marks… It isn’t good for her when she’s so sick. One time she was running an awful fever during the night and he refused to send for a doctor because she still had bruises on her arms, I was so scared she’d die there and then Phil,”

Dan wrapped his arms around himself and clung tight, pain flaring in his stomach from nerves. He rested his head against Phil’s shoulder and shuddered, trying to keep his breathing under control.

“What if she dies Phil?” he whispered, “What if she dies? What will I do if she dies?”

Phil bit his lip and threw his arms around Dan’s quivering body, wanting only to make everything better.

“It’ll all be okay sir, I promise,” he said fiercely, protectively nuzzling his face into Dan’s floppy hair, “I’ll look after you, I’ll pray for her every night as well,”

“I thought you weren’t religious?” Dan said confusedly.

“I’m not, but it’s worth a try in’t it?”

After Phil had said his goodbyes and promised he’d send the letter, Dan finally let himself cry, his shoulders heaving with heavy sobs as he cried pitifully into his knees. Shakily he took out the letter from his old nursemaid and scanned over it for the hundredth time since it had arrived at breakfast, his stomach still feeling that painful lurch when he read the last paragraph.

_I don’t want to worry you Master Daniel, I really don’t, but your Mama is very sick, the worst she’s ever been. The doctor has been to see her and he’s trying everything he can, your stepfather has even allowed him to give her an expensive new treatment! I promise I’ll look after her Bear, I’ve nursed that girl since she was just a child like you and I love her like my own._

Dan knew it must be bad if his stepfather was willing to spend lots of money on treatment, usually he’d begrudge Dan even of his castor oil (though Dan didn’t complain too much about that). Dan missed home more than anything, he missed his beautiful, bright, healthy mother and lovely old Mary who would do anything for him and was almost family, he missed the servants who were so kind to him and sneaked him food even when he was exiled to his room, he missed the ducks in the lake that he’d watched grow from ducklings, he missed the village and the church and even the grumpy old man who ran the sweetshop who’d thrown him out for loitering on more than one occasion.

He just wanted to be back with his Mama, to curl by her side and make everything alright. As much as he was fond of Phil, the school was awful and drained all happiness and hope from him, he needed to be home.


	5. Chapter 5

Phil was cold, so cold his cheeks and the tip of his nose had gone red and he had uncontrollable shudders that made his teeth chatter. He really hadn’t wanted to go out as he’d yet to eat breakfast but Cook was insistent, demanding more apples for a pie she was making. Phil didn’t know why it was so urgent but he went without a fight, deciding that he was probably being punished for something he didn’t know about. He always seemed to be in trouble at the moment, whatever he did wasn’t good enough and he was constantly being shouted at for mistakes he hadn’t even made. Josh reckoned it was because Cook’s gentleman friend hadn’t visited for a few days and that had made her irritable, but that still didn’t explain Barrymore’s sudden hatred for him. He supposed she was still upset from the other day, he wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up with her though.

Grumbling to himself about the raise in the price of cooking apples he walked around the corner back into the square where the school was, frowning in confusion when a carriage pulled up outside the door and a gentleman with a briefcase hopped out. He couldn’t recall a visit from one of the parents being scheduled and none of the pupils were sick so it couldn’t be a doctor.

 _‘It’s probably a surprise visit from a student’s uncle or something,’_ he told himself as he skipped down the sidesteps to the kitchen, _‘That’ll be why they wanted me out of the house… Maybe it’s an inspector? If it is no wonder I’m not supposed to be seen, I look a state!’_

Sighing, he placed the basket on the kitchen table and began to unpack; only looking up from his work when Dina scurried in the room, her face pallid.

“Phil! What’re you doing back so soon?” she questioned tiredly, running her fingers through her uncharacteristically messy hair, “Mrs Barrymore’ll have your guts for garters if she catches you here,”

“Why though? What’s going on?” Phil folded his arms and leant against the heavy table, tilting his head to one side in bewilderment, “Is it about the inspector upstairs? ‘Cause if it is I’ll go hide in the laundry room ‘till he’s gone and won’t make a peep I promise!”

“Inspector? What’re you on about Phil?” Dina rolled her eyes at him and for a moment seemed to be her usual self but soon her face fell back into its previous morose expression, “He’s a solicitor, he’s the little lord’s father’s solicitor if I’m being precise,”

Phil’s head snapped up and he bit his lip so hard it bled, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his mind was spinning.

“His Ma’s really sick, isn’t she?” he breathed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “Dan’ll be so worried about her, Dina, he loves her so much!”

The maid swallowed hard, looking sympathetic for the first time in her life.

“She’s more than sick, Phil, she’s dead,”

* * *

Dan looked up from his textbook in confusion when his name was called, quickly he got to his feet and stood beside his desk, completely unsure of what he was in trouble for now. He remembered the last time he’d been caught staring off into distance and winced at the memory.

“Yes sir?” he said quietly, tensing when the boys around him began to laugh, wondering what he’d said that was so wrong, “I’m sorry Mr Brigshaw, I wasn’t paying attention, forgive me,”

The other boys began to laugh harder and Thomas crowed happily, elbowing the boy next to him, getting him to join in. Dan blushed heavily and clasped his hands behind his back, worrying his lip between his teeth, still, his eyes did not lower and he looked at his teacher enquiringly, now almost certain he was going to get the ruler and probably lines as punishment, the thought of a letter home made him feel dizzy and he was sure he’d throw up. The schoolmaster rolled his eyes and looked as if he’d very much like to hit him upside the head but refrained and instead settled on giving him a withering glower, sending a spike of dread through Dan and silencing the other pupils.

“Although I’m highly irritated with your lack of attentiveness, Johnson, I wasn’t calling on you for that. The headmaster requires that you go see him in his office at once, though I do expect you to come here after dinner and see me,”

Dan didn’t think he’d felt this awful since the time he’d accidentally spilt permanent ink on the cream rococo chaise longue and his stepfather had found out and made him wait overnight to be punished… and he’d felt pretty awful then.

He swallowed and nodded, digging his nails deep into his palms as he tried to stop himself from shaking.

“Yes sir,”

As he walked through the desks he felt the atmosphere in the room change from amusement and excitement to pity and slight fear. Usually the others seemed to find seeing Dan punished good entertainment but it was well known that the headmaster was someone to be feared and if you were sent to see him you should be terrified. He tripped slightly on an uneven floorboard and had to steady himself on a desk for a moment before hurrying out of the room, his lip bleeding from biting down too hard.

When he got to the office he took a while to pluck up the courage to knock on the door, this had always been the worst bit back home and he was dreading it. Just the few seconds of waiting that seemed to go on for hours was enough to make him shiver in nerves. As soon as he was called for he swung the door open and meekly made his way to stand before the headmaster’s desk, his posture straight but oozing deference.

“You asked to see me sir?” he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

The dark room was bringing back awful memories, everything down to the heavy ‘tick’ of the grandfather clock reminding him of the dreaded study at home. He wanted to be sick.

Drew looked paler than Dan had ever seen him and he was shaking with anger, a crumpled bit of paper quivering in one hand. He swallowed hard and gave Dan such a look of ill-concealed anger it was a wonder the boy didn’t bolt. He gestured for Dan to walk forwards and he did so, albeit reluctantly.

“You may want to take a seat Johnson,” he snapped, slamming the paper down on his desk, “I have very bad news for you,”

Drew didn’t need to say another word, Dan already knew. It was as if the world had come crashing down around him, he stumbled forwards in a daze, his heart pounding and his head spinning. This couldn’t be happening, it _couldn’t_.

He thought of his pretty mother; how her mouth did the same quirk to the side as his did when she was trying not to giggle. How she had the most unladylike laugh because she tossed her head back and snorted and once she’d started she couldn’t stop. Of when she thought nobody was looking she’d take a sugar cube from the bowl and pop it in her mouth and suck it, how she’d blush when she’d been caught out.

He’d never see her again.

He flopped gracelessly onto the chair, his body falling as though the strings holding him up had been cut. There was a pain in his chest that wouldn’t subside and everything prickled as though he was being poked by thousands of needles. He could only once remember feeling this way, then it was the day news had come that his father had died.

“Your mother is dead,” Drew said, his voice devoid of any sympathy, “Your stepfather has vanished and you’ve no money left to your name,”

The words cut through Dan and shocked him from his panic, ice settling in his stomach.

“I- that can’t be true!” Dan gasped, struggling to breathe, “Mama… Mama said I was- was set to inherit Papa’s estate… Where did Johnson go? What’s happening?”

Drew passed him the paper he’d been holding, his expression livid. Shakily Dan took it and in his daze managed to take in a few words.

_‘LILY JOHNSON née. MATTHEWS NOW DEASEASED’, ‘BOY PENNILESS UNTIL HE COMES OF AGE’, ‘BIG INHERTENCE’_

The words at the bottom made his heart nearly stop.

_‘You won’t be able to find me, of that you should be certain, I shan’t have any more to do with the boy, he’s yours now._

_Yours,_

_Edward Johnson’_

He looked up slowly, his mouth dry, and tried to understand what he’d read.

“Wh-where do I go now?” he whispered, his whole body quivering, “What do I do?”

Drew got to his feet angrily, startling Dan into doing the same as he stumbled back. The man stomped around the desk and began to pace back and forth, a vein on his now puce forehead throbbing.

“Nobody has stepped forwards to claim you!” he snapped, turning to Dan who was now in the middle of the worst panic attack he’d had for a long while, “There’s nobody to send you to either, they’re all dead or untraceable! You owe the school two terms worth of fees and you can’t pay it back for another _three years_!”

Dan had no idea what to do or say, it was all too much at once and he couldn’t concentrate.

“I was going to send you to the workhouse-“

Dan’s heart nearly stopped at that and he began to sway, the only thing stopping him from collapsing was the bookshelf beside him that he clung to for support.

“-But then I’d never get my money back! I asked my sister for advice and she said to put you to work and let you pay it off that way. As soon as you’re of age you’re out!”

Relief flooded through him and he felt tears spring to his eyes, hurriedly he wiped them away as he looked up at the man with more gratefulness than was really deserved.

“Thank you sir!” he gasped, wringing his hands, “I-I couldn’t be more grateful sir, really thank you so much!”

Drew’s face twisted into a bitter smile as he looked down at his once star pupil who was now broken and stricken with grief.

“If you cross either me or my sister, rest assured you’ll be sent away, boy,”

There was a knock at the door and Mrs Barrymore swooped in, looking down at Dan with such distain he was taken aback.

“I see you’ve told him then Walter?” she asked, her voice the same shrill, though now it had a harsh tone to it, “Shall I take him to his new quarters?”

She smirked at her own joke and it made Dan wonder exactly how much money he’d lost them, it had to be an awful lot for her to be this cruel to him. Still, fees couldn’t be _that_ much, even as a parlour boarder.

He was pulled from his delirious musings by Barrymore’s claw like nails digging into his shoulder, firmly steering him out of the door.

“Wait!” he said quickly before he was dragged from the room, “When is the funeral?”

“Last Wednesday,” Drew said stonily, “Though you wouldn’t have gone even if I’d have known because it would have been _me_ who had to buy your train ticket,”

Dan swallowed and let himself be pulled away, his mother’s smiling face still filling his mind.

* * *

“Well?” Cook crowed as Dan stumbled into the room, changed out of his once fine clothes into plain, slightly too worn ones in the need of patching up in a few places, “What do you think you’re doing just standing there? Get over here and help Phil with the washin’ up,”

“Yes ma’am,” he said quickly, darting over to where Phil was bent over the sink, his head bowed and tears in his eyes.

“You okay, sir?” he asked in a whisper, passing him a rag so he could dry up, “Mrs Barrymore says you’ll be working down here with us now,”

Dan nodded solemnly.

“I’m okay Phil,” he breathed, looking over his shoulder to see if Cook was listening, “I’m in shock, that’s all…”

“I’m so sorry sir!” the older boy responded a little too loudly, “I think Mr Drew was wrong to just let her decide what happens to you-“

“-Don’t be calling him ‘sir’ now Phil!” Cook shouted over, a wide, cruel smirk on her red face, “He’s even lower than you now!”

Phil tensed and opened his mouth as if to argue but instead just sighed, his shoulders drooping. He turned back around, shaking his head and continuing to wash up. Dan glared in disgust.

“How could you sound so gleeful about it you horrid woman?” he spat, crossing his arms to try and hide the fact they were shaking, “I’ve just found out my mother is _dead_!”

“Dan don’t!” Phil said feebly, but the damage was done.

“What did you call me?” the woman screeched, storming over to him and grabbing him by the collar, “How dare you speak t’me like that! Didn’t you hear me? You’re lower than dirt!”

Dan was too scared to fight back when she grabbed him by the hair and bent him over the sink, forcing him down into the murky soapy water, only letting him up when started to struggle in panic. Phil looked on in sympathy as Dan began to choke, gasping for breath. The woman laughed and let go of him, letting him flop over the sink trying to get his breath back and get rid of the awful taste from his mouth, his eyes watering.

“Speak back to me like that again and you’ll be getting worse, an’ Phil there can tell you how much you don’t want that,” she snapped, cuffing him on the back of the head and going back to her workbench, continuing to chop the carrots, “Get back to work now!”

Dan’s eyes stung and he wanted nothing more than to scream in her face then run away, but instead he submissively ducked his head and sighed, the taste in his mouth making him queasy and the lack of breath making his head spin.

“Yes ma’am,”

Phil squeezed one of Dan’s hands and poured him a glass of water while Cook wasn’t looking, smiling sadly.

“Don’t talk back next time Dan,” he said under his breath, “It just makes everything worse,”

* * *

 

Soon after that little incident, Joshua came and told him he’d moved his belongings upstairs for him and it was probably a good idea to unpack. Dan began to thank him profusely but was silenced by the man ruffling his hair, frowning sadly at the flinch he got in response.

“Why’s your hair all wet?” Josh asked, looking down at Dan and examining him, “And your neck ‘n shoulders!”

Dan blushed embarrassedly and bit his lip while Cook laughed outwardly; the footman put two and two together and gave her a filthy look, patting the boy on the back comfortingly.

“That’s rotten of yer,” he said disapprovingly, “You go on upstairs, sir, get yourself sorted out. Phil’s room’s the one right at the top, the second attic, you’ll know it when you see it, kay?”

Dan nodded and gave a wan smile.

“Yes sir, thank you,”

He felt tears prick in his eyes at the laughs he got in response and quickly walked from the kitchen to escape them. He found himself stumbling up the first flight of winding stairs he came across, no longer caring about whether or not he was going in the right direction, just that he got as far away from the ridiculing as possible.

Stair upon stair he climbed, his eyes scarcely believing the new world around him. The servant’s quarters at home hadn’t been luxurious by any means, but the ones at the schools could almost be described as decrepit. The whitewashed walls were bare and peeling and the floorboards were dusty and creaked ominously, with lessons going on the school was silent and it was easy to imagine he was the only one there. When he reached the first landing he was happy to see some sign of life in the place, there was a vase of dried flowers on the tiny windowsill at the end of the corridor and one of the doors (presumably to Dina’s room) was open revealing a neat little room with floral bed sheets. The image gave him hope and he continued on his climb with lighter spirits.

Dan knew what Joshua meant about knowing Phil’s room when he saw it, amidst all the cobwebs and dust there was a single door at the top of the stairs that had a piece of paper pinned on it, proudly stating that he was about to enter ‘Philip’s Room’. It was oddly comforting to see something like that on a door that the paint had peeled away so much you could see decades of different layers of paint beneath. It was like seeing a flower growing between cobblestones, even though the odds were stacked against it that tiny ray of hope still sprung up.

Smiling to himself despite his lack of breath, he pushed open the door.

Dan looked around the attic and thought that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Phil obviously cared for the room well, the floorboards, although bare and uneven, were clean and the storage boxes were stacked neatly by the wall (one of which had a chipped wash bowl and jug sat atop it) and one of the two rickety old beds were made. There was an old desk from one of the schoolrooms downstairs propped against the wall with a wonky stool next to it, there was even a shelf with a few falling apart books on it… but still, it wasn’t what Dan would call good accommodation.

The two windows were tiny and one was warped so it wouldn’t shut properly and had to be wedged closed and combined with the fact that the fireplace obviously hadn’t been used in years it meant the room was very cold. Phil had tried to make it homey for himself, but functionality had taken precedence and so the room lacked life and looked dreadfully dreary. He had to admire Phil’s positivity, even though he never seemed to get enough to eat (judging by how quickly he gobbled down his gifted food without a thought for table manners) and was always sporting a new bruise, he tried his hardest to keep smiling. His slightly decrepit bedroom was a testimony to that.

Dan sighed and placed his small suitcase on the trunk at the end of the unused bed, wondering if this room had been set up with maids in mind or if Phil had been sent to the attic and sorted it out himself. He slowly began to unpack, looking down at his clothes with a heavy heart. Barrymore had told him to take only his most practical and plain clothing, saying that the rest would be sold, so he’d ended up with a wardrobe consisting of mainly blacks and greys, most of it quite worn already. After her earlier cruelty he was starting to wonder if Mrs Barrymore truly was only matron in title, she seemed too horrible to be considered a motherly figure to _anybody_.

He gazed down at his clothing with a frown. Two of the shirts weren’t even his, they’d been taken from lost property in the school office. He’d been sensible and packed for both summer and winter and had managed to throw in a pair of boots and a few books before he’s been sent downstairs, clinging to his father’s pocket watch and the only photo he had of his parents and himself together.

“This is home then…”

He placed the books on the shelf beside Phil’s and the photograph frame on the desk before curling up on the unmade bed and suddenly starting to cry into the lumpy mattress, the reality of his situation pressing down on him.

The attic was nicer than the one at home, that one was dusty and had mice living in the floorboards that his mother hadn’t the heart nor the courage to remove. He shuddered at the memory of being locked up there overnight, he’d been running in the halls hiding from Mary who’d wanted to comb his hair and he’d run straight into Johnson, sending him flying. After a night spent curled up by the door crying his eyes out and begging to be released as he heard the sounds of scratching around him, imagining the mice crawling over him, he’d screamed so much at an imagined brush against his knee he’d lost his voice.

 _‘I always was a wimp,’_ he thought as he lay down flat, staring up at the bare rafters.

Despite the fact the attic was freezing cold, he was grateful it wasn’t anything like he’d imagined and he was very glad he wouldn’t have to sleep alone there. He’d had images of the one at home and had nearly vomited at the thought, but slowly he’d calmed down.

All he had to do now was to wait for Phil.

* * *

 

There wasn’t anything Phil could think to say to Dan that night as they sat in their room, holding onto each other as if for dear life. ‘I understand’ didn’t feel appropriate, though that’s all he could come up with in his shock, instead he whispered soothing ‘ssshss’ into Dan’s ear as he carded his hands through his hair. He couldn’t believe this had happened, he wouldn’t wish as much on his worst enemy, especially not his beloved Dan who deserved so much and more.

The only thing running through his mind was how familiar it all seemed.

Phil was fourteen when he’d escaped the orphanage and found himself a job and actually started to have a hope of a future that wasn’t against the inside of grey cracked walls. When his Da had finally drunk himself to death he’d not known what to do, he was only twelve and he was scared, without any family he had nowhere to go so he was sent from his tiny messy house to a huge looming building, full of children like him with no place else to go.

He’d tried to convince himself it wasn’t so bad; he had a place to sleep, food to eat and he was finally allowed in a proper schoolroom, but it turned out to be hell on earth. As soon as he’d arrived he was set to work ‘learning a trade’, when really that meant cleaning the building for hours on end, he didn’t really mind that so much, it was the lessons he loathed.

Phil had been taught by his mother at a young age to read and write as well as basic maths and when she’d died he’d kept up his studies by himself, stealing old newspapers and water damaged books from the seller down the street. By twelve he was quite competent and able to handle himself and for a while he’d managed to get work as a delivery boy for the greengrocers as his Da wasn’t bringing in enough money to pay rent, buy food _and_ keep buying liquor to drown his sorrows. The first schoolmaster had been so pleased and put him in charge of teaching the younger children and at first that had been fine, Phil had a lot of fun teaching them the basics and learning himself from the textbooks. One day though that teacher was replaced, this time by a man who had little care for fun in the classroom and was quick to chastise. He insisted Phil continue to teach the younger ones but made him keep up his own studies on the side, punishing him whenever he slipped up in his own work. It put Phil under a lot of pressure running himself ragged trying to do his best by both his young charges and himself.

Eventually Phil messed up one time too many (he’d broken down and shouted at the schoolmaster in front of the other students and hit back when he was struck) and was locked in the cellar overnight while the board decided what to do with him. In passing, one of them mentioned how their cousin was in the need of a scullery maid for his school in London and they managed to strike a deal, for half the wage of a scullery maid he’d take Phil on as an errand boy to do the same job and more. The next morning Phil was made to pack a bag of the few possessions he had left and sent away to a city he’d only read about in the papers. He was more frightened than the day he’d come downstairs to find his Da dead at the kitchen table, a bottle of brandy still clutched in his lifeless hand.

He’d learnt quickly what was expected of him and became a drudge, doing everything he was told, not wanting to mess up his chance of redemption as the alternative was the workhouse and he knew he wasn’t cut out for that. He had no chance of getting another job without a good reference and having ‘striking a teacher’ on his permanent record wouldn’t help at all either. He discovered that his accent was barely comprehensible to his new bosses and their staff so he changed it as much as he possibly could to suit, he fetched and carried, he was quiet and respectful and when he finally got his wage at the end of the month he carefully put it safe in a jam jar he had hidden under his bed ready for the future. _That_ was quickly opened and emptied when November came and he realised he’d freeze to death without some better clothing so he’d bought some second hand and tried not to wince when he put his wage for December in and it hit the bottom and clinked despondently against the glass.

Three years later and Phil had learnt the hard way how things worked, he swore to himself that he’d guide Dan through the worst of it for three more years until the other’s inheritance came through and he could escape. Until then Phil would just have to keep saving his pennies, bowing his head, and keeping as quiet as he possibly could.

Just as Dan began to doze off to sleep in his arms he pressed a gentle kiss to his clammy forehead, smiling gently when the boy’s brown eyes fluttered open.

“Shhh, just go to sleep Dan,” he murmured, smoothing his hair, “I’ve got you,”


	6. Chapter 6

For the first few days Dan walked around in a haze, pale faced and red eyed, and barely noticed the worried looks he was getting from Phil or even acknowledging the frequent telling offs he got from Cook. He did as he was told and seemed to scrape along just fine, messing up only a few times and learning quickly when he was shouted at. He slotted into his new position without much of a problem, so after a few weeks when he woke up (so to speak) he was already quite adjusted to his new life.

One night he was sweeping up his former schoolroom when Brigshaw came in to collect some papers, without thinking, Dan automatically gave a half bow and a meek ‘Good evening sir,’ much to the teacher’s surprise and mild discomfort. He nodded to the boy but instead of going back to the staffroom to mark his papers as he’d planned, he sat down at his desk and decided to watch Dan work for a bit, wondering for his wellbeing.

“Is there anything I can get you sir?” Dan asked quietly after a while, aware of his teacher’s gaze.

The man looked up from his marking and shook his head, ruling through a whole paragraph of one poor boy’s work.

“No thank you Johnson,” he replied, putting down his pen but still twiddling the ruler in his hands, “Though I would like to offer my condolences, if I’d have known about your mother’s illness I would have been more understanding about your penchant for daydreaming, worry can be distracting,”

Dan smiled softly and thanked him before he looked up in shock, taking in the menacing ruler and following it’s every movement, his whole body tensing.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“I forgot to see you after dinner,” he panicked, gripping his broom tightly, “I’m so sorry sir!”

Brigshaw rolled his eyes and waved it off.

“It was understandable, there’s no need to worry,”

But Dan wasn’t having any of it, he continued to apologise for his forgetfulness, wondering if the man had sat there long waiting for him before he’d given up and gone to bed. Brigshaw regarded him with worry, although Dan irritated him he did have a certain fondness for the boy and watching him slowly break down over something as simple as a missed appointment was distressing to say the least.

“Calm down!” he said sternly as he pointed at him with his ruler, surprising Dan enough to shut him up, “You’re seeing me now, aren’t you? Let’s count this as a rescheduled meeting,”

Dan nodded stiffly and tried his hardest to stop his hands from shaking but failed, he was such a bundle of nerves and he didn’t know what to do. Gently he rested his broom against a desk and walked up to his teacher, waiting to be told to put his hands out. Unfortunately Brigshaw didn’t understand and dropped his ruler, awkwardly patting him on the arm. Suddenly, seeming to remember something, he got to his feet and dashed to get something from a cupboard leaving Dan very confused.

“Ah ha!” he came back with Dan’s workbook and a few pencils, pressing them into the boy’s hands, “I think you have a bright future, Johnson. You’re a very intelligent boy and it would be a shame to let that talent go to waste, if you can, please continue to study, it will be very helpful should you decide to continue your education when you escape this wretched place,”

Dan looked shocked for a few moments more before he smiled brightly, the first genuine smile he’d had for a while, and thanked him profusely. Just then the clock struck eight and Dan had to make his leave, but not before he’d had his hair ruffled and been given two textbooks.

After he’d left, Brigshaw continued his marking, picking up his ruler again. As he looked down at the wooden stick in his hands, comprehension dawned and he felt a pang of sympathy.

“He thought I was going to beat him…”

As he stared off into space, the teacher couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the boy that he instantly assumed he was going to be hit. Images of Dan and his submissive nature and nervous disposition sprung to mind and he tried desperately to push them away.

Sighing, he put away his marking as his concentration was now gone and that night him and the other tutors sat up late talking about the little lord and how swift he’d been to fit into his role as a servant.

* * *

 

One of the weirdest things for Dan was the sudden change from star pupil to penniless servant and at first he’d found it very hard to adjust. Although he hadn’t really had any friends amongst the students he had been on good terms with a few and could hold a conversation with the majority, now he wasn’t allowed to even have eye contact with them let alone speak. They all viewed him differently now, before there was a begrudging respect or even quiet admiration but now the fascination with him was down to his fall in status rather than his skills. Before, some of the boys used to beg him to play the piano in the library for them, a young boy called Nickels seemed particularly taken with his talent for it and even used to listen in on his music lessons. Now he was too overworked even to have time to hum, let alone play a composition.

He hated not being able to voice his opinion. He hated the fact that Ganz could ridicule him and he couldn’t respond, he hated that Mrs Barrymore seemed to glory in his misfortune and use every opportunity she could to let him know it and he hated that the other boys now treated him as a curiosity that wasn’t really human.

The worst part about it for Dan was the fact that Phil was so understanding of the whole thing. Whenever he was stressing over something the older boy would call him ‘sir’ or ask him about stories of his home. He’d treat him as though there was still a huge gap in their status and defer to him and let him speak first. He’d even waited on him until Dan had realised that the hot water he washed with on a morning didn’t appear magically and his socks didn’t darn themselves and had told Phil to stop. Phil was so ridiculously nice to him, even when he was snapped at, and Dan had begun to question whether the boy wasn’t actually an angel or a prince in disguise.

He was so grateful to have somebody so caring around and he found himself thanking the heavens that he didn’t have to go through it all alone.

* * *

 

“They all laughed at me,” Dan groaned as he walked into the kitchen, dropping the now empty bowl of porridge and dirty ladle into the sink, sticking on the tap and pouting, “They’ve not done that in so long! Do you reckon Monroe put them up to it?”

Phil looked up from polishing the good set of cutlery and grinned, rolling his eyes as Dan instantly bristled looking very offended.

“You’re still wearing your apron from washing up you ninny,” he sniggered, “What did you really expect?”

The other boy looked down and groaned loudly, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“No!” he said despairingly, tugging at the ties behind his back as he struggled to get it off, “Why didn’t you tell me before I left? And what the hell’s a ninny?”

“I didn’t notice ‘til now! And you’re a ninny,” Phil giggled getting up and helping Dan undo the knot behind his back, “If you looked in the dictionary you’d see your name as the definition,”

“I doubt it’s in the dictionary Phil. Besides, how would you know? I didn’t think you were smart enough to be able to read,” he responded with snidely, throwing the apron to the ground in distain.

“Oooh! Somebody’s touchy,”

Phil shook his head as he scooped the discarded apron up and placed it on its hook on the wall, flouncing down and continuing his work, rubbing away with new vigour. Dan seemed to realise he’d hit a nerve and apologised softly but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. Tentatively he sat down beside Phil and picked up a fork, trying to help him but being more of a hindrance than anything.

“Sorry Phil,” he murmured, looking at him reproachfully, “I know you’re good at reading, better than me even! I don’t have the patience,”

Phil smiled in spite of himself and looked up at him, watching Dan’s pitiful attempts at polishing with fondness.

“Yeah yeah,” he said, taking the rag from the other’s hands and shooing him away, “You know that wasn’t a complement, right?”

“Then what is?”

“Oh I don’t know!” Phil waved his hands in the air as he thought, gesturing at nothing, “You’re very clever? Your hair is nice?”

“Well the second would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

“Oi!”

Dan laughed as Phil swatted him on the arm, wriggling away when he began to fake punch.

“Okay okay!” Dan choked, trying to regain his breath, “Your eyes are very pretty? They’re like periwinkles and they’re shiny,”

Phil snorted at that pitiful attempt but blushed a little anyway at how earnest Dan was about it.

“That’s better I suppose, very girly and superficial though,”

“Shut up!”

The two messed around a bit more before diving back to work when Cook came back from visiting her gentleman friend, the both of them risking flustered glances and shared smiles. Phil didn’t think he’d ever felt happier.

* * *

 

As soon as Phil heard the clatter of footsteps coming down the stairs to the yard he knew he was in trouble. He sighed heavily and kept his head down, continuing to rake away the leaves that had gathered on the cobbles after last night’s storm. He didn’t even bother looking up when he heard Monroe’s signature snigger, knowing that if he did the other boy would take it as a challenge and he’d probably end up having the crap kicked out of him again, and that was an experience he had no desire to repeat. 

“Phil!” Monroe called, his voice already mocking, “Hey! Charity case!”

It seemed he was going to have the stuffing knocked out of him after all.

“Yes sir?” he asked politely, fighting the urge to glare into the other boy’s eyes and instead lowered them respectfully.

“What’s it like sharing a room with Johnson?” he taunted, folding his arms and leering over at Phil, “Does he still act like a spoilt little prince? Does he make you dress him?”

The other two boys he was with laughed nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation but scared for their own skin.

_‘Cowards’_

“No sir, Dan is very capable of looking after himself,” Phil said plainly, not even bothering to take the rise, “I’m sorry, but is there anything I can do for you? If not, can you please excuse me? I’ve got work to do,”

The smirk on Monroe’s face fell and quickly turned into a scowl. Phil knew he was in for it.

“Oh, have you taken a fancy to him? Are you a pansy, Phil?” Phil could almost feel the black eye he was going to get already, “Because you know what happens to pansies…”

The next thing Phil knew his rake was on the floor and he was being dragged by the hair to a more hidden part of the yard where he could be beaten with less chance of being seen. A blow to his stomach made him double over and soon enough a kick to the shin had him sprawled on the floor, wheezing and angry.

“Nickels, Jones! Hold him still for me, would you?”

Jones looked as though he might be sick, he shook his head and looked down at Phil with worry.

“Don’t Monroe, he hasn’t done anything to you. Your quarrel is with Johnson, not with Phil-“

“-My quarrel will be with you if you don’t do as I say!”

Phil rolled his eyes, posh boys were even posh when they were doing something as common as brawling. He was surprised and slightly touched, though, that Jones had even tried standing up for him. He’d always put him down as a rather weak boy but he was obviously up to more than he’d thought, still, there wasn’t any point in him getting hurt as well.

“It’s okay sir,” Phil called up cockily from the ground, wobbling as he tried to get to his feet, “He’s going to kick my head in whether you hold me down or not… actually, it probably  _would_  be better if you held me down,”

Monroe clenched his fist and got ready to sock him in the jaw but Nickels interrupted him.

“Why Phil? Surely you don’t want to be hit?”

Phil gave the most menacing smile he could muster and tilted his head.

“’course not! It’s for Monroe’s safety, can’t have a pupil being knocked out by a servant now, can we?”

At this point, Nickels and Jones were intrigued, both of them looking at him in amazement, only Monroe seemed to realise that Phil was stalling.

“You couldn’t hit me, you’d lose your job!” the other boy snapped, puffing out his chest.

Phil was going to make a comment about the ethics of hitting somebody who couldn’t hit back but decided against it, instead smirking when he thought of what to say.

“D’you know why I work here?” he asked, the North flooding back into his accent the angrier he got, “I was sent away for near killing a teacher, had to go to hospital he did. They sent me here to keep me out of trouble, not that I needed it, I’m usually quite docile… until I snap,”

While his little story seemed to terrify both Jones and Nickels, Monroe was not impressed. The other two boys darted back but Monroe darted forwards and hit Phil hard across his cheek, making him spit blood and have to check his teeth were still intact. The little bit of dark humour Phil had entertained for the moment disappeared and he was left bitter, knowing full well he couldn’t hit back. He ducked another punch and swore under his breath, jumping back when a kick was swiped at his legs.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” he groaned, staggering back and hitting the iron fence behind him with a wince, “We both know this isn’t a fair fight,”

Monroe ignored him and grabbed him by the jacket, slamming him into the fence painfully and shaking him. The other two boys looked on in horror until Phil growled and tried to wriggle away, then Jones went running off inside with a startled shriek and Phil knew he wasn’t going to escape this with just a few bruises.

“Please sir! We’re both going to be in trouble if you don’t let me be,” he wheezed, trying his best not to show weakness but that was incredibly hard when you were being kicked to the ground.

“Oh do stop it Monroe!” Nickels cried, trying to pull the other boy away, “It isn’t fair to do this,”

Monroe simply shrugged him off and continued to kick at Phil who’d managed to curl himself into a ball on the floor in an attempt to protect himself. He felt his eyes begin to water as his shin scraped across the cobbles and grazed through his trousers, dirt smearing across his face as he tried to crawl away. All he wished he could do was to fight back, to scratch and kick and bite like the spitting street kid he’d been forced to be, but he couldn’t. He shook from the effort of holding it in.

“What’s the matter Phil?” Monroe taunted, looking down at the boy on the floor with such dismissal it sent Phil into a silent fury, “I thought you were dangerous, I thought you were going to kill me?”

Phil glared up at him from the ground, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh believe me, sir,” he spat, forcing himself to his knees, “If I could risk it, I would,”

Monroe seemed to realise he wasn’t getting anywhere, hitting somebody who wouldn’t fight back was no fun, he wanted to stamp the fight out of him first.

“I might just let you off then,” he gave a false frown and a shrug of his shoulders, “Jones is right; my quarrel is with Johnson, not you,”

He turned his back on Phil and started to walk away.

“I’ll just have to wait until I can get him on his own, I can get my message through to him that way,” he looked over his shoulder and smirked, knowing full well he’d hit a nerve.

Phil was no stranger to fights and he knew one thing for certain, attacking someone from behind was against the rules. Phil was also a street rat who had nothing against fighting dirty when it came down to it, there’s no time for honour when the person you’re fighting is lower than you are.

He dived at the other boy’s legs and swiped his feet from underneath him, sending him clattering to the floor. He punched and bit and kicked and managed to get a good scratch in across the other’s face before he was flipped and pinned to the ground. He grinned spitefully when he saw he’d managed to draw blood. Monroe drew back his hand and punched him as hard as he could in the stomach adding another burst of unbearable pain to his already bruised abdomen.

“I thought you weren’t going to fight back,” Monroe spat, his chest heaving and spittle flying onto Phil’s face.

“Touch Dan and I will kill you,” Phil gasped with such cold conviction it scared Monroe to hear, “Lay even a finger on him and I’ll snap them. I don’t give a fuck about prison, if you hurt him I’ll end you, I’d happily hang if it meant you were dead,”

Nickels gasped and tried to pull Monroe away but he easily shrugged the tiny younger boy off.

“Don’t hurt him anymore Monroe!” he pleaded, his round boyish face pale with worry, “He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“He tried to claw my eyes out!” Monroe growled, turning on the younger boy who flinched back.

“Only in self-defence!”

The other snorted and looked down at Phil who was looking at him with such burning hatred it made his blood boil. He raised his fist and Phil prepared himself but just as Monroe was about to give another blow Jones came rushing back with Mr Brown in tow, the pair of them flushed from running.

“I think Phil’s going to kill him sir!” Jones squeaked, pulling him around the corner to where Phil was sprawled out and Monroe was about to strike, “Monroe should never have threatened him!”

As soon as Brown lay eyes on Phil all bloody and shaking he grew incredibly angry, grabbing Monroe by the collar and pushing him away before turning to help Phil (who was now quivering out of fear rather than anger) who had to lean on him for support.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing boy?!” he yelled at Monroe, turning to him with a thunderous expression, “How  _dare_  you hurt a member of staff like this?”

Monroe was almost too shocked for words.

“Me?” he spluttered, “He threatened to kill me-“

“-Only after you threatened to hit him! I’m not stupid Monroe, I know exactly what you’re capable of and I know this isn’t the first time you’ve attacked Phil!”

“I’m covered in scratches and bite marks from that savage! He’s an animal! He should be put down!”

Brown looked him up and down, taking in every mark on his body feeling quietly impressed that Phil had managed to do such damage even though he was nearly passed out from pain. Phil stiffened beside him and pushed himself away and leant on the wall for support, the adrenaline wearing off and each injury feeling ten times worse. Monroe wasn’t a slight boy by any means and he had the luxury of being well-fed and healthy whereas Phil was thin and bony and hadn’t had a good meal in his life, he couldn’t remember ever feeling full, to have caused such damage when the odds were stacked so highly against him was no mean feat.

“Monroe, go to your dorm and clean yourself up, I expect to see you in my office at six,” the boy looked as though he very much wanted to interrupt but thought better of it and instead did as he was told, stalking off.

“Jones, Nickels,” both boys jumped to attention and looked up at their teacher fearfully, “Don’t speak of this to anybody, understand? I don’t wish to have this spreading around the school, go back to class now,”

The pair scrabbled away with just one last glance at Phil who looked scared and young when he was cut and bruised.

Finally it was just Phil and Brown left in the school yard and Phil felt himself start to feel sick, he wasn’t sure if he could take whatever the teacher was going to give him after the day he was having.

“Sorry sir,” he said, trying not to groan, his stomach churning and his mind reeling with possible outcomes, each of them grim, “I shouldn’t have retaliated sir,”

“No you shouldn’t Phil,” the man snapped tiredly, “But what’s done is done. Now, you go down to the kitchen and-“

“-Please don’t make me tell the mistress, sir!” he pleaded, his eyes glazed over in panic, “She’ll scold me I know she will!”

Brown looked at how stricken the boy before him looked, even through the swelling and bruises, and began to wonder what actually happened downstairs. He’d never really thought about it until Brigshaw had told him about Dan’s strange jumpy behaviour, then he began to remember the mysterious bruises that littered Phil’s body and the muffled shouts he often heard the closer he got to the servant’s part of the house.

“You don’t have to tell her anything,” he promised, “If she asks tell her to talk to me about it. I promise you won’t be in trouble for this Phil, though I would like to know why you fought back, you’ve not done that before,”

“He threatened Dan, Mr Brown,” Phil said gravely, looking up at him with intense eyes, “And Dan hasn’t done anythin’ and he can’t fight back sir! He’d just roll over and take it and he shouldn’t!”

Brown thought about it for a minute and nodded slowly, his frown deepening.

“Does Johnson ever fight back?” he asked as he leant over and supported Phil, leading him back into the school, “I know he’s got a temper on him, but I’ve never seen him retaliate,”

Phil shook his head.

“He panics sir,” he said, gasping in pain as he hobbled up the steps, “His stepfather used to hit him so he’s always jumpy but his mouth runs faster than his brain can think and he only ends up making things worse for himself. He always takes slaps without a word though, he goes all glazed over and doesn’t even try to shield himself, wish  _I_  could do that,”

They reached the door leading to the servants’ quarters and Phil thanked Brown for his help, he was about to leave when Dan opened the door with a box of letters he instantly set aside as soon as he saw the state Phil was in.

“Oh Phil!” he gasped, gently cupping the other’s face in his hand, turning it side to side as he examined it, “What on earth happened? Are you alright?”

“’m fine, don’t fuss over me!” Phil said with a laugh, “Monroe knocked me about a bit but Mr Brown here helped me back in, I’m alright Dan, honest!”

It was only then that Dan noticed the teacher stood watching them and he let go of Phil’s chin as though he’d been burnt. He flushed scarlet and instantly placed his hands behind his back and ducked his head.

“Thank you for helping him, sir,” Dan said slowly, still in shock.

Brown took in his automatic slip into such a submissive stance and saw for himself the truth in Brigshaw’s words, he couldn’t help but feel very uneasy about the fact that Dan feared him so. The only lesson he’d ever had Dan for was Latin and not once had he ever struck him, he barely knew the boy but the fact he saw him as a threat did hurt him a little.

“It’s not a problem Johnson,” he said with a weak smile, “Just make sure he gets patched up and rests for a few days, if he’s in a lot of pain do make sure he goes to matron,”

“I can assure you of the first but I doubt Mrs Barrymore will agree with the second, sir,” Dan said with a frown, “I’m not trying to be rude sir, but Mrs Barrymore has to be the least caring person when it comes to Phil, I don’t think she’ll want to help him,”

Dan looked over at Phil who was still wheezing with pain and he frowned sympathetically. He was very good at tending to wounds and even had learnt (painfully) how to sew up deep cuts, but Phil’s injuries were mainly bruises and he knew full well there was little he could do for him but press ice to reduce the swelling. He wished he still had his fancy first aid kit from home with its clean bandages and comforting clinical smell, but he didn’t. He winced at the thought of having to make do with old rags.

Phil caught his gaze and tried to give a reassuring smile but that sent Dan into a panicked frenzy and he found himself scrambling back as the other boy nearly pounced on him.

“Phil! Your mouth!” Dan near screeched, “Are your teeth all still there? If he knocked any out I swear I’ll-I’ll-“

“-You’ll do nothing and leave him to me,” Brown interrupted amusedly, trying to look at him sternly but failing, “Have you lost any Phil?”

“No sir!” Phil responded with cheerily, “Do feel like I’ve cracked a rib though,”

The teacher frowned, seeing through Phil’s happy façade and not liking what he found. His arm was wrapped firmly around his waist and he had sweat dripping from his forehead, his legs were quivering and though he was grinning, the side of his face was puffy with bruises. While Brown was impressed at his ability to even stand upright, he knew full well the only reason he was doing so was to placate Dan who was fussing over him like a mother hen.

“If it gets worse I’ll make sure you get a doctor, I’ll be off now then,”

Phil gave his thanks and Dan gave him the first honest smile he’d seen from the boy. As he walked up the stairs he smiled at how suddenly the boys turned back to squabbling and fussing, he shocked himself by laughing aloud at Dan’s motherly tone.

“Philip Lester if you don’t stay still and let me check how badly you’re hurt I’ll tie you down!”

He closed the door gently and walked away, though the fact the two boys had one another was a small comfort he couldn’t stop himself for being worried for them. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I was away and didn't have access to the internet :(

Recently it had felt like Dan’s entire life was made up of being constantly pulled back and forth, he went from running errands to chopping carrots to spending hours doing laundry, he was exhausted. There were entire days when the only words that would leave his mouth were; “Yes miss!”, “No sir!”, “Sorry ma’am!” and he’d be too tired even to utter a word to Phil who was pretty much in the same position. Luckily the older boy was understanding and before bed he’d always whisper a fond goodnight.

Dan had assumed today was going to be one of those days as he flopped down onto his poor excuse for a bed and tried to take in the dates and facts in his history book, so needless to say he was pleasantly surprised when Phil stomped up the stairs and sighed dramatically.

“What’s the matter?”

“They were a  _nightmare_ today!” Phil groaned, sinking down on his lumpy mattress and putting his head in his hands, “You haven’t heard anything like it, Dan! They couldn’t have sounded more like posh boys and most of them are only the sons of bankers!”

Dan looked up from the textbook he was half-heartedly scanning and smiled affectionately.

“To be fair,  _you_ sounded more snobby then! What happened to anybody who has a top hat being a toff?”

Phil rolled his eyes and loosened his tie.

“I don’t mean it like  _that_ , I mean it… It’s more how they talk than how they sound,” he looked up and gave a wicked little smirk, “But you still do it,  _sir_ ,”

“Oh don’t Phil! Anyway, how do posh boys talk then?” Dan asked with a giggle, one eyebrow raised and his head tilted to one side in an almost daring manner.

“Oh  _hallo_  Howell!” Phil cried, his voice ridiculously plummy and his accent incredibly exaggerated, “I say, do buck up! We’ve the croquet game on the hour and we absolutely  _must_ beat the other chaps! Hah! Hah!”

Dan was in peals of laughter and he had to beg Phil to stop but he was ignored, the older boy getting to his feet and pacing their tiny bedroom with his nose in the air.

“I must say how absolutely topping this caviar is, the finest in fair Britannia! I shall take my tea in the drawing room! God save the Queen of England’s green and pleasant lands!”

Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly at Phil’s antics.

“I’ve never had caviar in my life!”

“ _That’s_  what you chose to complain about?”

“Come now,  _Lester_!” Dan laughed, getting to his feet and standing in front of Phil, “You missed out on Ganz’s favourite!”

“And what would that be,  _Howell_?”

“ _Yah_!” Dan sniggered as if it were obvious, “Haven’t you noticed he says that all the time? Never ‘yes’, always ‘yah’!”

Phil threw his head back, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh god! How had I not noticed that? That’s amazing!”

Dan grinned, his face glowing for the first time in weeks, he happily dragged Phil to sit beside him on the bed.

“Go on then, what were they actually doing?” he asked, his smile still bright.

“Oh, just the usual,” Phil shrugged, “Complaining about lessons and stuff. I was in the younger ones’ dorm sorting out the bed sheets and Jones was kicking up a fuss about some French test he had later on. Ganz came in to tell him to shut up and went on a rant about how  _‘lucky he was to be getting an education because there are others too poor to afford it’_ and would Jones _‘rather end up serving others like the less fortunate’_ ,” he pulled a face and folded his arms, “I know it was only ‘cause I was there, I can’t stand him!”

The other frowned sympathetically and gently patted him on the arm, tilting his head.

“He’s just spiteful and been fed the same nonsense they all have; that they’re better than the rest,”

“ _You_ were never like that,” Phil pointed out, “You’ve never treated me badly, and you’re a lord so you’re probably the only one sort of entitled to it,”

Dan shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his chapped hands, his legs swinging nervously. He’d never liked the thought that being a member of the aristocracy made him above others, in fact, he  _hated_ it.

“Well, my Papa told me everyone should be equal and I should treat everyone with the same respect, I guess I just never thought of you any differently?”

Phil rolled his eyes at that and hit him gently on the shoulder.

“That’s rubbish, I know you’ve always been nicer to me than you are the other boys. You treat me much differently to how you treat them,”

Dan was embarrassed.

“Because you  _are_ different… As soon as I saw Mr Drew about to hit you I felt it,” he hung his head and bit his lip, “I know you aren’t the only person hurt by their master, god knows, but when you looked at me you were different,”

“How so?”

“Well, you didn’t look dead behind the eyes, for one, and you  _ducked_! Do you know how much I wish I was strong enough to fight back? You were different Phil, so yes, I treated you differently,”

Phil looked at Dan’s solemn expression and laughed fondly.

“You  _are_  strange, Bear. I suppose we have something in common, yes, but I thought at least you _liked_  me!”

Dan smiled at the familiar nickname and let himself be hugged.

“I do-“

“-Then stop worrying! You’ve nothing to be upset about,” Phil messed up Dan’s hair fondly, “Come on then, we’ve still got work to do before we can go to bed,”

Dan grumbled tiredly as he forced himself to his feet and put his book away.

“Aye aye sir,”

Phil shook his head at Dan’s behaviour and found himself wondering, not for the first time, what really went on in the other boy’s head.

* * *

Dan’s knees ached and his hands were rubbed raw but he daren’t sit back on his heels for even a moment. He pushed his unruly hair out of his face and decided to ask Phil if he’d help him cut it later as the slightly overgrown locks kept falling in his eyes. He’d have asked Dina if he weren’t so scared she’d shave it all off just to spite him and laugh in his face, and while Dan hated his curls and thought they made him look like a girl, his mother had adored them meaning he was loath to part with them.

“Say, Phil!” he whispered, his eyes darting up from the sodden tiles before him, catching the other boy’s bright blue, “Later on will you help me trim my fringe? I can barely see what I’m doing through it!” he grinned and gazed up at him through his long sooty lashes.

“Sure thing,” Phil responded, dipping his hands back in the metal bucket beside him and starting to scrub again, “I used to ask Cook for some help but one time her and her gentleman friend thought it’d be funny to pin me down and stick a bowl on my head and cut around it,” he grimaced and pulled a face, sitting back and shaking his head, “I nearly died from embarrassment and had to cut it sort of raggedy myself,”

Dan frowned and sat back too, he tried his hardest not to smile imagining Phil with a bowl cut and must have failed because suddenly he was squeaking loudly with a face full of soap bubbles.

“You git!” he laughed, scooping up some of his own and tossing them in Phil’s general direction, “I’m soaked now!”

“You deserved it though!” Phil snorted, shifting out of the way so he narrowly avoided becoming a foamy mess, “Laughing at my story like that! It was a really traumatic experience I’ll have you know!”

The two of them squabbled for a bit, giggling and feebly hitting each other when suddenly one of the buckets was tipped over by a poorly aimed kick, sending water pouring across the floor.

“Damn!” Dan hissed, diving across and righting the upturned bucket, his arms uselessly flapping as he looked around for something to mop the watery mess up with, “Phil!”

But Phil didn’t respond, he was stood up looking terrified down the corridor.

“It was an accident ma’am!” he said quickly, ignoring Dan who slipped as he tried to get to his feet, “I knocked it by mistake I swear miss!”

“I saw exactly what happened!” she responded coldly, “The both of you to my office,  _now_!”

* * *

 

Dan hated that sound, the sudden ‘swish’ always made him flinch no matter how hard he tried not to and his whole body seemed to tingle with nerves. He’d heard that noise so many times before as he sat nervously outside his stepfather’s study, his body shaking and his hands gripping the stool below him tight as he awaited the call to be let in. When he’d finally been admitted he’d have to stand, swaying with anxiety as his knees felt as though they’d buckle beneath him and his heart beating so quickly and loudly he wondered if his stepfather could hear it, staring straight forwards as the man paced about behind him, swishing the cane at random, smirking at the little jumps he got in response.

Dan closed his eyes tight and tried to ignore Phil’s cries of pain by attempting to put his mind to other things, but hearing the familiar ‘swish’ then ‘crack’ only pushed him deeper into memories. He pulled out his Papa’s pocket watch out of habit but even its familiar tick wasn’t enough to sooth him, his mind too busy flashing over the first time he’d ever been whipped.

_~~~_

_“You’ve been impertinent with me again boy,” Johnson spat, swishing that dreaded stick around, “And it’s upsetting your poor mother. How do you think she must feel? She’s so sick and all you can do is backtalk and play in the gardens instead of studying,”_

_Dan felt a lump in his throat but couldn’t swallow as his mouth was so dry, his forehead dripped with sweat and his stomach twisted with terrified nausea. He opened his mouth to say something but the breath was knocked out of him when he received a sharp cuff to the back of the head, sending him tumbling forwards._

_“Don’t even think of saying a word!” Johnson grabbed the scruff of the boy’s neck and bent him over the desk brusquely; revelling in the quivering wreck Dan had become in a matter of seconds, “And take this like a man! It’s time you grew up Daniel, no more molly coddling or crying for your mother,”_

_Dan clung to the other side of the hard oak desk and tried not to whimper when he heard the man step back. He gasped and jumped when he felt a tap on his behind and tensed up when the ‘swish’ came down, never in his life expecting the ‘crack’ to be so loud. It took a moment for the pain to register, all was well then suddenly a white hot fire spread in a line, he cried out in shock and felt tears tumble from his eyes._

_After that the blows kept on coming and Dan lost count, too caught up in the agony he was experiencing to notice how loudly he was sobbing. In the following months Dan learned not to make a sound, it only made him hit harder._

_~~~_

When Dan became nervous his body would turn against him and make everything worse. Some days the nerves would be so bad his stomach would twist and turn and he’d become so nauseous he’d be sick. Sometimes it was as though he was underwater, the world around him was muffled and he couldn’t make anything out and his head felt too heavy to support him. The panic attacks were the worst, his chest would tighten and his head would spin and he wouldn’t be able to breathe, he’d feel sick and scared and he couldn’t escape it.

He jumped in shock when the door opened and out hobbled Phil, his face paler than Dan had ever thought possible and his lips bitten raw and pricked with blood, there was no sign of any tears though.

“You’ll be okay Dan,” he whispered, patting him on the back, “Just pretend it doesn’t hurt so bad, don’t give her the satisfaction,”

Phil watched the boy walk in and the door creak closed behind him, he leant against the wall and waited; soon enough the first blow sounded through the house but there was no cry, not even a whimper. He swallowed hard and counted each ‘swish’ trying not to focus on the pain he felt in his behind until Dan was eventually dismissed, tears streaking down his face and his body shaking so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.

He hobbled as quickly as he could to the nearest bathroom where he fell to his knees and promptly vomited.

* * *

 

The attic was miserable in the winter, it was cold and damp and the bare rafters rather lost their charm when you could hear mice scratching as they walked across them. It was times like this he really missed Mary. At home whenever he’d been punished she’d be there in his room waiting for him, ready to comfort and sooth and, when necessary, patch him up. He missed her rough but loving ways, the tight hugs and the sweet kisses on his forehead. Thinking about her and her apparent abandonment of him only hurt so he tried his hardest not to, but when you’re hurt and feeling sorry for yourself it can be quite hard to keep your mind off things that make you sad.

“What was it like when you first came here, Phil?” Dan asked, his arms wrapped around the older boy’s middle as he curled close to him to keep warm, “Were they as awful to you then as they are now?”

Phil thought about it for a minute, wincing at a few memories that popped up unwanted, things he’d tried his hardest to forget.

“Well… you know bad days like today?”

“Yes?”

“It was like that every day for at least two months… I think they thought I was going to kill them in their sleep or somethin’. The first day was horrible,”

~~~

_Phil looked up at the large man in front of him with terror in his eyes. He’d not slept for worry and he’d been too anxious to eat so he was feeling rotten and wanted nothing more than to cry, but he daren’t, this being the only chance he had left._

_He felt a heavy hand push him forwards from behind and he turned to face the director of his orphanage, pleading with him silently. It didn’t work so he turned back around and swallowed, preparing himself for the worst._

_“Ho-how do you do, Mr Drew? I’m Philip Lester-“_

_A hand flew at his face and he cringed back, not in time to duck away from the grip the man had on his chin. He went pliant and let his head be turned roughly from side to side, the headmaster looking at every inch of him with a critical eye. Drew smirked as he inspected the side of Phil’s face that still had a bad purpling bruise on it and he maliciously pressed into it with his thumb, only stopping when tears sprung up in Phil’s eyes. He felt like an animal at the market, his body being inspected before being sold to the highest bidder._

_“He doesn’t seem like much, hardly the little monster you built him up to be,” Drew laughed and let go of Phil with a push, rolling his eyes when the boy stumbled back with a heavy blush painting his cheeks, “I’m not sure he’ll be up to much,”_

_“Oh I assure you he is,” the director said, pulling Phil up by the collar to make him stand straighter, “The boy’s clever, quick to learn and used to running errands. Besides, he’s half the price of even a scullery maid and he can do twice the work with a little…_ encouragement _, so to speak,”_

_Phil shuddered at the thought but it seemed to amuse Drew who let out a great booming laugh._

_“We’ll take him then, lord knows we can’t afford anyone else right now!”_

_~~~_

_As soon as he’d been introduced to Mrs Barrymore he’d been dragged down to the kitchen by his ear. The whole experience had been disorientating and his nausea had only gotten worse when he was made to stand in front of the other three staff and introduce himself._

_“H-hullo… I’m Philip Lest-“_

_“-Where the hell is ‘e from?” the maid laughed, not seeming to care that Phil was on the verge of tears again, “That accent aint half odd,”_

_“Don’t be mean Dina!” the footman chastised, looking at Phil with sympathy, “’e can’t help ‘e’s from Yorkshire-“_

_“-Lancashire, sir,” Phil corrected softly, only to receive his first clip around the ear of many._

_Dina laughed even harder at that and Cook sniggered, only the footman looked remotely sorry for him._

_“I’m no ‘sir’ Phil,” he grinned, trying to cheer the shivering boy in front of him up a little, “Call me Joshua,”_

_Phil smiled tentatively and nodded, thankful that at least one person hadn’t been cruel towards him._

_~~~_

Dan looked at him with sympathy, wondering how Phil could still be as lovely as he was after he’d been treated so badly.

“It could have been worse,”

“How?” Dan asked incredulously, “You literally went from one hell to another!”

Phil laughed and shook his head.

“It could have been farming, now that would have been worse,”

Dan thought about it for a minute and sort of nodded in agreement.

“At least Josh was nice from day one? Why  _is_ Joshua so nice to you? The other’s aren’t,”

“It could just be ‘cause he’s nice in general?” Phil muttered, not really having thought about it before, “I mean, he’s nice to you, isn’t he? And he hates posh people,”

They lay snuggled up in silence a little longer, they light flickering as a draught played with the candle’s flame. Finally, Dan plucked up the courage to ask Phil something that he’d wondered about for all the time he’d known him.

“Why… why didn’t you go to the workhouse?” he asked softly, hating how as soon as he’d said the word, Phil tensed.

“I- well… God Dan I couldn’t ever,” he whispered, clinging to the younger boy as if he’d disappear any moment, “You’ve no idea how bad it is there… you hear horror stories ‘bout it and you don’t believe them, I didn’t either, but then you meet someone that’s been in one and the look on their face just chills you,”

Dan could see how scared Phil was at just the thought, but he still didn’t understand, his eyes rose tinted from his sheltered childhood and rich upbringing.

“I thought they helped you there? I thought it was a place for poorer people to get work and be looked after until they decided to leave-“

“-it int!” Phil snapped, his accent slipping in his fear and his face pale, “It’s a place people with no options go to and get worked to death. They say the door’s always open for you to leave but it isn’t really… you can’t imagine it Dan,”

“Neither can you!” Dan protested, “You’ve never been in one, you’d said!”

“But I saw people coming out,”

Suddenly Phil was cold, he untangled himself from the other and sat upright, drawing his knees up to his chest and staring off into the distance, his eyes glassy.

“There was a cart bringing them all out, I saw it when I was doing a delivery for the grocer,” Phil was paler than usual and he’d begun to shake, scaring Dan and making him want to pull him from this awful trance, “I don’t know how many, there was a sheet covering them, but I still knew what they were. Off to the hospital for the medical students half of them, or so the driver said, the others God knows where,”

Dan suddenly felt very sick, he could plainly see the image in his head and just seeing how it had affected Phil made it ten times worse.

“I didn’t go to the workhouse ‘cause I had a choice, I know you think this is the worst place ever, but it really isn’t Dan. I have a chance here, there… well, they say the only chance some have of leaving is in a box, but I’ve seen it isn’t the case, you sometimes don’t even get that,”

Dan slowly sat up beside Phil and cautiously put an arm around his shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes when the older boy curled into him.

“When they sent me to the orphanage I was so relieved,” he said shakily, his voice muffled by Dan’s shoulder, “It was just a school for poor kids really, but it was so much better than the alternative. We had lessons, had a gym, got food and clothes and on a Sunday we’d have chapel. ‘part from my teacher and the fact I was always in trouble, things weren’t so bad as they could have been. When I was sent here it was only a little while before I’d have been sent away for being too old anyway…”

Dan said nothing, worried that if he tried to give comfort he’d end up pointing out that really, it didn’t sound like Phil had much cause to be grateful, but he didn’t say a word and instead hugged Phil closer. He hadn’t really considered Phil as a child before, he’d worked all his life and looked after himself pretty well so Dan had never thought about him like that, but seeing him curled up in fear was something different. Phil looked too young for seventeen.

He whispered apologies and held Phil tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him, but the other boy seemed to appreciate it, giving a hug just as tight back.

“I’m okay now though Dan,” he said gently, looking up into the other’s big brown eyes, full of hope, “I mean, I’ve got you now, haven’t I? And one day we’ll run off together and get proper jobs and it’ll all turn out alright,”

Phil was so hopeful when all Dan felt was  _hopeless_ , he just nodded and gave a wan smile though. They curled up under the ridiculously thin covers and Dan leant over to blow out the candle.

He didn’t know if he could keep up being Phil’s source of optimism, especially not when he lacked it so much himself.


	8. Chapter 8 - Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it isn’t a Victorian tale without Christmas, really. I don’t care it’s the middle of summer! I need my fix of Dickensian festivities :D

Christmas was upon them before Dan had chance to even notice the leaves change from green to brown then disappear altogether, every house on their street had a wreath on the door and trees in the windows, bright lights and merry garlands visible even from the road outside. To say Dan was morose would be an understatement. The school didn’t really have that many decorations up so he only had to put up with the festivities when he went out but the Christmas tree in the common room and the paper chains in the servants quarters were enough to give him a sickly feeling in his stomach he hated.

A week before Christmas the school got into a flurry of activity as students began to pack their bags to leave for the holidays, only a few unfortunate boys had to stay because their parents were abroad or the journey home was too far. Dan struggled with their cases and steadfastly ignored the merry chatter and completely blanked Nickels’ shy ‘Season’s Greetings Johnson!’ much to the younger boy’s upset.

Phil (on the other hand) was even jollier than usual, buzzing around the place singing ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ with gusto and sending Dina up the wall. He was singing ‘The First Noël’ while washing the dishes when she finally lost it and threw one of the parsnips she was peeling at the back of his head.

“Get out or shut up!” she shrieked, prodding her finger aggressively in the air, “I can’t be doing with it Phil!”

“Aww, c’mon Dina! It’s Christmas! Anyway, every Sunday you  _always_ sing hymns when you don’t even know all the words!”

“That’s different,” she argued, “On a Sunday it’s acceptable, and besides, I know ‘Praise My Soul’ all the way through now! And _I_  can sing,  _you_  can’t!”

Phil laughed good-naturedly and nodded his head in agreement.

“What I lack in talent I make up for in effort… We could sing ‘The Holly And The Ivy’?” he grinned, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head where the hard parsnip had collided with his skull, “~THE HOLLY AND THE IVY WHEN THEY ARE BOTH-“

“OUT!” the maid screamed, her pretty face flushed, “Get out of this kitchen right now!”

He pouted and looked to Dan for support but the boy was too busy staring down sadly at the crate full of parcels and letters that had just arrived from the post office, his shoulders drooped and the corners of his mouth turned down. He glanced up at Phil’s beseeching gaze and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Do you want me to finish those Dina?” Dan asked, getting to his feet, “You could take the presents up and arrange them around the tree?”

If she noticed his obvious ploy to get rid of her she didn’t mention it. She thanked him and shot a dark look in Phil’s direction before flouncing out, carrying her brightly wrapped parcels. After she’d gone Dan sat down in her seat and carried on doing her job.

Phil stared at him for a moment before abandoning his washing up.

“Why don’t you laugh anymore?” he asked as he flopped down to sit at the table beside him, “You used to laugh so much, now you barely crack a smile,”

The other boy bristled and glared, picking at a hole in his trouser knee he’d been meaning to mend but never found the time.

“In case you’ve forgotten, my mother died and my stepfather ran off leaving me a penniless orphan, that’d explain it, don’t you think?”

Phil frowned sadly and patted him on the shoulder, when he saw Dan’s picking he rolled his eyes and nudged him with his skinny elbow, pushing the other’s hands away from the loose thread.

“Yeah, but you were making jokes soon after,” he pressed, looking worriedly at Dan’s tired face, “What’s happened to stop you smiling?”

“I think it hit me,” he said quietly, closing his eyes, “It all felt like a dream for the first few weeks, I was just walking around in a haze as if I were playing pretend and I’d wake up the next day and Mama would be alive and I’d still be home with her… But now it’s all coming into focus. It’s the first Christmas I’ve ever spent without her Phil,”

He ran his hands through his hair and breathed deeply but it still wasn’t enough to calm him down.

“I’m cold and hungry and tired and whenever I do something wrong I get smacked and if I do something  _right_  it’s still not good enough. It’s Christmas Eve and I was  _still_ sent out on an errand. This morning I went into town to fetch Cook some more flour and a dozen eggs and when I got back one of them was cracked in the box and I hadn’t noticed, she screamed blue murder and wouldn’t let me have any lunch,”

He swallowed hard and curled into an even tighter ball, trying to calm his deep shuddering breaths.

“I’m scared Phil,” he said honestly, cursing the little shake in his voice, “I don’t want this, any of this! I can’t escape it… I thought it was bad at home when Father would use any excuse to hit me or lock me away, I thought I could cope with eating so little because for years I’d gotten by on bread and water, but I can’t, I just can’t do it… Christmas hasn’t been a good time for me for years anyway, after Papa died it just…”

Phil pulled him close, tangling his fingers in the other’s dirty brown curls, trying to think of anything he could say or do to make it better but he came up a blank.

“I-I’m here,” he whispered, stroking soothing circles on his back, holding him tight, “I’m here Dan. Soon you’ll get a hold of your inheritance and I- I’m saving all my wages up… I know it’s not much, but one day we’ll have enough to run away… We could go to the sea if you like! Can you imagine it? The two of us working at the docks? Or maybe we could apply to work in the gardens at a manor house on a cliff up in the moors! Days and days of working out in the country, breathing in that fresh air rather than this smog. Dan, love, we’ll get out of here one day, I promise, we just have to wait,”

Dan was dubious but decided to say nothing, relaxing into Phil’s arms and, just for a moment, letting the dream world wash over him, filling him with false hopes and quickly fading joy.

“Do you… Do you want to do something Christmassy?” Phil asked eventually, when he was sure Dan had calmed down, “We could go carolling? Buy chestnuts? Go to church?”

Dan laughed tearily and batted him on the arm.

“No, I’m just going to pretend Christmas isn’t happening,”

“That’ll be hard tomorrow at Christmas dinner,” Phil said, wrinkling his nose, “It’s the only dinner I ever look forwards to, it’s great. Cook makes the best parsnips and last year Josh found the sixpence,” he narrowed his eyes and pouted, “I really  _really_  wanted it!”

Dan smiled fondly and leant back in his chair, finally pulling himself from his depressive slump.

“I got the coin three years in a row, the year I broke my streak I was so sad Papa just gave me it from his plate,”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just lucky,” Phil’s grin faded and he looked at Dan as though something dreadful had happened, “No! Because I was the youngest I always set fire to the pudding! Now you’re here I guess you’ll do it,”

“No, you’re welcome to it, I’m not Christmassing,”

Phil glowered and folded his arms, quite quickly becoming tired of Dan’s Scrooge impression.

“That isn’t even a word! And besides, Jesus  _died_  so Father Christmas could come, you should show your respects!”

“I think you’re mixing up Easter with whatever it is that goes on in that strange mind of yours,” Dan was unable to stop the giggles that took over him and he threw his head back in laughter, “You were singing carols just a moment ago, surely you picked up the story from them?”

Phil got to his feet and ruffled Dan’s hair up again on his way back to the sink.

“Of course I did, I  _have_  actually read the Bible and been to church you know! I was just trying to make you laugh and I succeeded, I’m like a merry Christmas elf,”

Cook walked in just as Dan threw another parsnip at the back of Phil’s head and the pair of them were banished from the kitchens with the threat of no turkey the next day. Needless to say Phil took that incredibly seriously.

* * *

 

When Christmas Day finally dawned Dan was woken to Phil leaping up and down on his bed like an overly excited puppy. He groaned and rolled over, popping open his pocket watch and growling at the time.

“It’s five in the morning Phil,” he grumbled, batting the other’s hands away when they tried to pull the covers off of him, “Go away, I’ve got forty-five minutes of precious sleep left, don’t take them from me,”

“No you haven’t! It’s Christmas Day!” Phil said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “The pupils like to open their presents before chapel so we always make breakfast early and dinner will take  _ages_  to prepare!”

Dan didn’t say anything, he just kicked Phil off the bed and grumbled as he got to his feet. He tried very hard not to get irritated with the other boy, Christmas obviously meant a lot to him and he of course was going to be excited, but Dan couldn’t help but think singing ‘We Three Kings’ while he pulled his socks on was overkill. He said as much when Phil forced him to sit down in the kitchen and stuck a sprig of holly in his lapel against his will.

“Leave me alone I already look festive,”

“You might as well be shouting ‘Bah Humbug!’ at everybody!” Phil passed him bowls to set out on the dining room table, “I know you aren’t exactly religious or even in the mood for being Christmassy, but it’s hard enough for the pupils who have to stay without them having to put up with your black expression,”

Dan stuck his tongue out and sulked like a child.

* * *

 

The rest of the day went as Dan had expected by all accounts. Him and Phil both served breakfast (porridge with a special treat of honey) and watched as the few boys laughed as they opened their presents, Phil wistfully eyeing the beautiful Noah’s ark set one of the younger boys had received.

“I never had one, you see,” he explained later on when they were resetting the table for dinner while the boys were at chapel, “My Ma always wanted to get me one but Da said we couldn’t afford it, he was right but at the time I was too little to understand that,”

Phil looked down at his hands for a bit and smiled.

“I suppose I’ve got at least a tiny bit of the set though,”

“Oh?”

“Well, I’ve definitely got one of the bears,”

Dan scowled at him and stalked out of the room, ignoring Phil’s gentle laughter behind him and grumbling to himself about how he should never have shared that little bit of information.

* * *

 

After they’d struggled up the stairs with the heavy plates and serving dishes it was time for them to have their own Christmas dinner. Phil was right, it  _was_ spectacular.

For the first time Dan could remember since starting to work downstairs; he actually had a full stomach, his dinner had been properly hot and he was allowed desert, he felt as though he was heaven. Everybody was in a good mood too, that  _never_ happened. Cook was smiling and telling stories of Christmas when she was a girl, Joshua and Phil got up and badly sang a few carols and Dina actually laughed and joined in at one point (though she’d deny it later on if anybody dare bring it up). Dan felt himself begin to enjoy it all as he smiled on as Phil’s face lit up in joy when he set alight their tiny figgy pudding.

The magic quickly faded when the bell for the library rang, Dan felt his stomach drop and he swallowed hard. He pulled himself from his haze when Josh got to his feet and grumbled under his breath about having half of Christmas Day off and how unfair they were being calling on them.

“Wait! It’s okay Joshua, I’ll go,” Dan said quickly, grabbing his blazer from the back of his chair, “Whatever it is won’t take long, I’ll be back in a minute,”

Josh thanked him profusely and Phil gave him a sympathetic little smile as he dashed up the stairs, trying his hardest to make himself look presentable. When he finally reached the library door he knocked on it quickly before he gave himself the chance to work himself up into a nervous frenzy. He opened it with a deep breath and found himself quite surprised when he saw what was waiting for him behind it.

“Johnson!” Barrymore snapped, clicking towards the piano, “Just who I wanted, go play us some carols,”

Dan blinked at her a few times, trying to comprehend what was going on.

“Oh please Johnson!” Jones cried from the window seat, another younger boy curled up next to him and a few others scattered around on the floor, “You’re so good at playing! Usually Mr Jeffries does it for us but he’s visiting family,”

“Ah, um, I- I haven’t played for such a long time ma’am, I don’t know if I’ll be any good,” he said, turning to Mrs Barrymore and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Nonsense! Now sit and play this instant!”

Dan nervously made his way over to the piano and sat down, his hands shaking as he opened the carol book. Just as he was going to begin Jones spoke up again.

“Please Mrs Barrymore! Can Phil and the others come listen too? I’m sure they’d really enjoy it,” he tilted his head and smiled at her, the gap between his two front teeth showing endearingly.

She nodded and turned around and yanked the bell a few more times. Dan wondered why she was acting so strangely until he noticed the glass of brandy perched precariously on the table beside her. While they were waiting for somebody to come up Dan stretched his fingers a bit and did a few warm ups, trying to get a feel for the keys again. It had been months since he’d last played, though Mr Jeffries (the music tutor) had tried to sneak him a few secret lessons Dan had quickly had to drop them because he was too tired and his hands too sore.

It was Phil who opened the door next, his eyes widening comically when he caught sight of Dan at the piano. He quickly did as he was told though and soon enough he was back with the others who reacted much in the same way. When everybody was assembled, the boys excitedly whispering among themselves and the staff simply looking at one another unsure of what was going to happen, Dan began to play.

He was shaky at first and stumbled quite a few times, but soon enough he got into the swing of things and eventually he actually began to enjoy himself a bit. He was so caught up in how much pleasure the younger boys were getting from it he nearly forgot about everything that had happened in the last few months, but it all came crashing down as soon as somebody requested ‘Silent Night’.

As he played the opening bars he felt a wave of memories crash over him, the first few good and warm but the last dreadful. In his mind he could see his pretty Mama playing  beautifully in the drawing room, the fire roaring high and a tree with foil decorations sat in the corner, Dan on his Papa’s lap as they listened to her sing brightly, her voice not exactly the best but charming nevertheless. That warm and fuzzy memory soon faded into the last Christmas Dan had shared with her, how she’d begun to play and how quickly she’d been told to be quiet by her new husband. Dan remembered telling him to leave her be and getting slapped and sent to his room, his head ringing as he heard Johnson shouting at his Mama while she cried as he walked away.

As soon as he finished playing the others all clapped and he gave a small smile, not really wanting to play any longer but bearing in mind what Phil had said about it being bad enough the poor boys had to stay over the holidays without him being a grump. Luckily for him Mrs Barrymore decided it was the perfect time to send everyone to bed (despite the groans) and he was allowed to make a quick escape.

“You’re quite good, ain’t you?” Dina said with a begrudging respect as they sat back down in the kitchen, Phil snacking on some cold roast potatoes, “Shame you can’t play more often really,”

“He was fantastic! She should be hiring you out! Next Mozart sat in our kitchen, who’d have thought!” Josh grinned, patting him none too gently on the back.

While Dan blushed and tried to wave off the compliments, secretly he was quite pleased with himself. Later that night when him and Phil curled up in bed together (the night being far too cold to sleep apart) he was still basking in the bittersweet glow of the day when he felt a small peck on his cheek.

“What was that for?”

Phil shook his head and did it again.

“Merry Christmas Dan… I’m sorry they made you play and ruined today for you,” he stroked his hands through Dan’s chocolate locks and sighed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dan sat upright and looked down at his friend wishing he wasn’t so perceptive. 

“No, not really. I want to go to sleep and pretend it never happened, is that alright?”

Phil nodded understandingly and rolled over and blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness. He pretended he couldn’t hear Dan’s muffled sobs and simply wrapped his arm around him and pretended to sleep until eventually the younger boy drifted off too.

* * *

 

It was Boxing Day and while the others received cards and a bonus from Mr Drew, Dan got nothing. He’d expected it but it still hurt him more than he’d thought. He  _had_  received a few small gifts though; Joshua had offered him one of his expensive cigarettes that he’d politely turned down and he’d gotten a hand drawn card and a mince pie from the bakery down the road from Phil. The worst part of it all had been the look of pity and understanding when Phil hadn’t received anything in return as Dan hadn’t any money to buy even card to draw on.

As he’d walked out of the door with his too heavy basket he pretended he hadn’t heard Dina whisper to Cook about him being disappointed and he’d tried to ignore the woman’s mocking response. Dan hated indentured servitude.

As he wandered down the street back from the market he took in the world around him for the first time in a long while. He missed the sky more than he’d ever thought possible. When he’d lived out in the country he’d loved the change of seasons, living through each one rejoicing in the way his surroundings would alter. The sky in London wasn’t like that, the seasons weren’t even there. It was always grey, masked by a thick layer of smog that made it impossible to see a thing, and the only sign of change of season other than different produce being the temperature and the occasional sludgy flurry.

It was snowing pitifully that day, the tiny flakes sparsely falling from the grey sky and becoming a murky sludge almost as soon as they hit the ground. Dan longed for the snows of his childhood, the thick clean flakes that blanketed the grounds around the mansion. He wished more than anything he was back there, wrapped up as warm as possible and racing around with Mary (who had to hobble after him) and building snowmen in the kitchen gardens that his Papa would later give silly names as he helped his little boy stick a carrot on for a nose. He missed running in the house soaking wet and being supplied with a warm blanket and a mug of hot milk, he even missed the colds that followed soon after. He laughed bitterly at himself, he was in his warmest clothing but even then the wind went straight through him and he knew full well that as soon as he got back there would be no hot drink for him, probably nothing to eat either, and certainly no warm blanket.

He missed the sun more than he missed the snow though. He prayed for warm days, the way the sun would make him feel as though he glowed from the inside. He missed the sweet smelling flowers of the gardens that hung in the air like perfume, the daffodils bowing their pretty bright trumpets, and he missed the feel of soft grass against his bare toes. There were no flowers where Dan currently lived apart from in the florists down the market; he always spent that tiny bit longer walking past her shop, unsubtly peering through the window at the pretty flowers that made him ache for home. He’d always wished he could buy some for his and Phil’s room but it was far too frivolous and he didn’t think Phil would appreciate it as much as he would, say, something extra to eat.

It was just then that the milkman walked past him in the direction of the shop, a dark blush spreading from his neck as soon as he caught eyes with Dan.

“What you doing here?” he snapped gruffly, crossing his arms defensively.

Dan was slightly confused as he raised his basket.

“I’ve just taken the pupil’s letters to the post office?” he looked at the milkman to the florist door and it hit him, he smiled and tilted his head, “Are you getting flowers for Cook for Christmas?”

The man got even more flustered and started so deny it, but quickly realised how silly that was.

“It isn’ any of your business! But…” he looked at Dan hopefully, “You were a lord, weren’t you? What kind’ve flowers do women like?”

Dan felt like a child in a sweetshop as he ushered the man into the little shop, his eyes bright. Even after the rush for Christmas day, there were still many bunches and plant pots about, albeit sad and droopy looking. Nevertheless, Dan was still over the moon.

“Well, Mama always loved lilies because that’s what she’s named after,” he pointed them out, the smell bringing back so many memories of a sunny sitting room and pretty piano music, “And roses are supposed to be romantic, that’s what Papa got her for their anniversary… Oh! A Christmas rose would be  _so_ romantic! Or how about a poinsettia?”

The older man nodded and picked up the roses but paled when he saw the price, turning to glare at Dan.

“Did ya have to pick the most expensive ones?” he asked woefully, seeing how much it was for just four, “I can’t afford that!”

Dan thought about it for a moment and spied the perfect bunch, gently lifting them.

“How about carnations?” he asked, looking at the delicate fluffy flower heads, “You could get them in red, wouldn’t that look pretty?”

“Sir, is it for your lady friend?” the flower lady asked, swooping over and plucking the flowers from Dan’s hand, “Because these are always popular with young ladies,”

Dan tittered, trying to imagine Cook as a young girl but he simply couldn’t, then it struck him that he didn’t know her age at all, nor could he place her. He turned to her gentleman friend and tilted his head.

“How old actually is Cook?” he asked, truly puzzled, “I mean, she can’t be young-“

“-You can’t go asking a lady’s age!” the florist scolded, prettily wrapping the carnations and adding in a few sprigs of white frothy gypsophila, “It isn’t proper! A young gentleman like you should learn that now,”

She winked at him and gave a little smile, finishing the bouquet with a flourish and passing it to the milkman.

“Here you go sir!” she said, passing the man his flowers, “If you could just come over and pay,”

While the milkman was rummaging around in his pocket Dan turned his attention back to the flowers, inhaling the scent of each one and blissfully examining each familiar bud.

“Sweet peas!” he exclaimed, pointing over to the delicate purple and pink flowers, “We used to have those in the garden! Mama loved them so much!”

Dan’s eyes widened as he turned on his heel and caught sight of a flower that filled him with such nostalgia he nearly cried. A little bunch of violets sat forlornly on a shelf in the corner and he dashed over to them, examining them with a sad smile.

“I helped Mary plant these in the garden,” he said quietly, turning to the milkman who was listening to him in bewilderment but listening nonetheless, “When they bloomed they were so pretty, Papa said they were the nicest flowers he’d ever seen… I know he said that just to be nice because I’d planted them, but still…”

The man stared at him for a few moments more before he shook his head and turned to walk out of the door.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Thank you for the flowers,” he turned to Dan before he shut the door, “You best get back sharpish, I know what Margery’s like when she’s been kept waiting and I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes if you’re late. Oh, Merry Christmas ‘n all that,”

He let the door swing closed as he walked away and Dan let out a deep sigh, collecting his basket and keeping his eyes trained on the floor, his trip down memory lane ending abruptly.

“Wait!” the florist said, catching him by the arm, “You’re the boy who stares in everyday, aren’t you?”

Dan nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.

“You said you plant flowers, where?” she asked curiously, “There aren’t any gardens for people like us around here, you from the country?”

Dan nodded with a wistful smile.

“Yes, I grew up there, I don’t plant flowers any more though and I doubt I will be able to for quite a while,”

She frowned at him and tilted her head, a petal from the bunch of flowers she was holding falling to the floor.

“You don’t sound like you’re from out there, a bit posh if you ask me,”

Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Nah, I’m as poor as a church mouse me,”

She smiled sadly and looked him up and down worriedly and Dan got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time she’d done so. He wondered if a boy stopping to look at the flowers everyday was really so uncommon as to make an impression.

“I know the jobs out in the countryside are mainly farmin’ but I wish I’d never moved away, go back if you can. You said something about a cook? D’you work in service?”

“Yes miss, at the boy’s school down the street,” he pulled a face and she shook her head in amusement, “There’s only one person in the whole place who likes me, they’re the only reason I haven’t run back home,”

She smiled at him and reached over, collecting the violets from their little vase and popping them in his basket.

“I’m guessing that person’s your sweetheart?” she teased, squeezing his arm one last time before letting go, “Take this for her, they only have a few days left in them anyway, don’t worry about paying,”

Dan tried to protest but she shooed him out of the door.

“Go on! Don’t want to get yourself in trouble now! Say it’s her Christmas gift,”

* * *

 

As soon as Dan got back to the school he dropped the basket in the kitchen, ignored Cook’s shouts for him to ‘Come back here and explain yourself at once!’ and hurried off up the stairs. He was in such a good mood the pathetic excuse for paper chain decorations didn’t bother him and he merrily skipped along. As soon as he reached the door which proudly read ‘Philip ~~’s~~   _and Daniel ‘s_  Room!’ he threw it wide open without knocking and happily took the shoes Phil was polishing from his hands and replaced them with the violets, grinning happily at his shocked expression.

“Flowers for my sweetheart, apparently it’s the done thing? Merry Christmas!”

Phil looked from Dan to the little posy then back again before he started to laugh, shaking his head and blushing madly.

“You strange boy,” he giggled, putting the flowers down on the desk and pulling the other into a hug, “Why would you-? Wait, I don’t even want to know! Just… thank you, you silly little prince,”

Dan usually would be affronted at that and argue the toss, but today it felt like a compliment rather than an insult and he let himself be hugged.

“You changed your tune,” Phil commented, looking at the flowers that lay beside him, “I thought you weren’t a fan of Christmas?”

Dan stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m not… the flower lady gave them to me for free because it’s after Christmas and she’s selling them off, it’s no big deal,”

Dan didn’t know why he lied about the last bit but Phil’s smile didn’t waver, he simply pecked him on the cheek.

They put the flowers in an old jam jar filled with water on the desk so they both could see them and pressed one of them in Dan’s unused Bible along with the few little pansies Phil had given him all that time ago. When it was finally Dan’s time to go down and face the music Cook was in such a good mood about her flowers she forgot to be angry with him until the next day when she tried to hit him around the head, her Christmas spirit and ‘goodwill to all men’ having disappeared.

For the first time in his life, Dan ducked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know half the flowers I listed weren’t in season, I just got carried away watching ‘The Secret Garden’ and that scene ended up getting wildly out of hand!


	9. Chapter 9

Dan pretended he didn’t hear them, he was getting good at that. He pretended he didn’t hear the other boys gossiping amongst themselves as he served breakfast, he pretended he didn’t hear Dina’s crowing comments to Cook, he pretended he didn’t hear Cook then laughing about it to her sweetheart, the milkman, and he pretended that he didn’t hear Mrs Barrymore complaining to the teachers about him. He was pretending he couldn’t hear their pitying remarks as he hurried to make the staffroom fire with a tray of coal much too heavy for him and a worn outfit much too thin and threadbare to offer any warmth in the bitter winter chills. He ducked his head and hummed tunelessly under his breath in an attempt to block the whispered conversations from his ears but he failed, managing to hear every word. It cut him like a knife.

“He had such potential,” the older boy’s school master, Mr Brown muttered to the music teacher, Mr Jeffries, “Could translate Latin perfectly, Brigshaw sent him up to my class to work with the older students you know?”

Jeffries nodded in response and sighed sadly.

“And he can play piano so beautifully, such lovely long fingers and delicate hands… such a shame they’re being wasted scrubbing floors and tending to fires,”

The two were quiet as they watched him get to his feet slowly, trying not to flex his bruised hands too much. The music teacher’s eyes widened in horror when he saw Dan’s puffy knuckles and swept across the room, startling the boy and making him cower back in fear. The usually stern tutor’s eyes softened as he gently took a hold of Dan’s freezing and chapped fingers and examined them.

“What happened to you Johnson?” he asked sadly, taking in the sight of Dan’s previously lily white hands all battered, “Punch a brick wall?”

Dan bristled and resisted the urge to pull his hands from the man’s grasp, his pride greatly hurt. If it were Phil he was talking to he’d give a sarcastic response and probably flounce away, but these were his teachers and he didn’t dare to.

“I smashed a plate sir,” he said softly, looking up into the man’s eyes with such dead apathy it almost hurt the man to see, “Cook got angry because if you smash something it comes out of your wage and because I don’t get a wage she hit me with her spoon sir,”

The music teacher let go of Dan’s hands and turned them over to see thick red welts across each palm, angry against his skin. He began to shake with anger and called over his companion.

“Do you see this?” he snapped, gesturing to Dan’s hands that were still outstretched as he waited for permission to drop them, “Old Barrymore could be making more money hiring him out playing the piano but instead she beats those genius hands black and blue! What on earth is she doing?”

“When has that woman ever had any sense? She’s supposed to be Matron! She’s meant to look after the boys but does she do that? No! She made a stupid decision putting the boy to work in the first place, he’s not a scullery maid! He’s a lord with or without money,” Brown shook his head in disappointment, looking at Dan’s quivering upturned palms.

“I’m not a lord sir,” Dan said quietly, not wanting to turn the man’s anger onto himself, “At least not yet sir,”

“Does it really matter when Johnson?” Jeffries asked disparagingly, “You’ll inherit the title someday, and when you do you’ll get at least a little money, I don’t know what you’ll do after that,”

Dan shook his head and lowered his hands, looking down at his feet as he tried to stop himself from crying.

“My name is  _Howell_  Mr Jeffries,” he said in the strongest voice he could muster, “I don’t see why I should go by the name forced upon me by a stepfather who abused my Mama and abandoned me. Howell is my name and I should like to start using it again,”

The two of them looked shocked but nodded amicably; Brown looking sadly still at Dan’s hurt hands.

“Joh- eh hmn,  _Howell_ , is it terribly painful?” he asked, taking his hands once more and examining them, “Nothing looks broken… Do you think you could still play?”

Dan looked at him as if he were mad.

“No sir! I can barely lift a tray without dropping it, it hurts so much!” Dan quickly looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and suddenly felt quite faint, “Begging your pardon sirs but if I haven’t lit the fire in the mistress’s sitting room I’ll be in trouble again and I don’t think my stomach could take that,”

He scooped up the tray as quickly as he possibly could, wincing from the pain and bowed swiftly before almost racing from the room, the door clattering shut behind him. The two men looked to one another with deep frowns.

“There isn’t anything that can be done,” Jeffries said solemnly, “The boy’s stuck here and there’s nothing anybody can do about it,”

 “Poor little Lord Howell, eh? What a waste of talent,” Brown agreed, “I told you about the things Phil told me, didn’t I?”

“No!”

“Oh! Well…”

* * *

 

Phil was in a very good mood for somebody who’d not eaten since the night before and hadn’t had a wink of sleep, he happily whistled to himself as he sewed up a hole in Dan’s trouser knee, shaking his head because holes always seemed to spring up at knees and elbows, it was almost as if evil elves put them there. He sniggered and shook his head at the thought, thinking about how very Dan it was.

Dan wasn’t in the best of moods again, whenever he was hungry he got irritable and it wasn’t helped by the fact Drew had boxed his ears again that morning for spilling milk all over him at breakfast. Phil couldn’t help but wonder what went through Dan’s head whenever somebody hit or slapped him, he always went from bristling with anger to meek and small, his eyes glazed over as if his mind were far away. Whenever somebody took a swing at Phil he ducked (a reflex he’d learnt as a child when his Da came home from the pub drunk) and more often than not that got him into even more trouble. In some ways Phil wished he could be more like Dan and switch off and submissively take it, but he just couldn’t.

Phil had more of a fiery temper than people realised, he’d had to have or he wouldn’t have survived as long as he had. Sometimes it backfired and he went too far, like the time his teacher had thrown the board rubber at him to get him to shut up and he’d thrown it straight back, or when he’d given the very same teacher a black eye after the man had punched him and he’d ended up being sent away from the orphanage. Luckily, he’d managed to control himself and he’d yet to strike out in self-defence to someone of power since that day, but he could never control his flight response.

He finished up sewing and looked down at the near empty spool of cotton; there wasn’t much on it when he’d nicked it from Dina so it hadn’t lasted too long. He sighed and decided to ask Dan if he’d nip to the market and buy some more the next time he was out, needs must after all.

* * *

 

Dan stared down at the murky waters of the Thames and shivered, wondering how long it’d take him to die if he jumped, how long he’d be falling and how long he’d be struggling to breathe in the bubbling dirty waters. He felt humiliated, before he’d been able to pretend that people weren’t talking about him and get on with his work, but when he’d been stopped and questioned? His pride was hurt and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die.

He sighed despondently and continued walking, his basket hooked in the crook of his arm as his hands still ached too much to try and hold anything. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cook and Barrymore were thinking, if he was hit for working badly how was he supposed to work well? Unless that was their plan all along and he was being sabotaged… somehow he didn’t think that was the case.

_‘Probably sheer stupidity,’_

Dan looked down at his feet and hopped over a particularly large puddle instead of walking around it sensibly, taking great pleasure in the childish leap; he rarely did things just for the fun of it anymore. London was like that though, as a child he’d loved visiting with his Mama and Papa, it had been the highlight of his year when they’d come to visit for the season. The London of his childhood had been a magical place, the places he’d visited shiny and bright, buildings made of marble and rooms filled with gold gilt, the people wearing decedent clothing. The London of now was something very different, it was dirty and the air was thick, the buildings all made from the same blackened redbrick and the people living in poverty.

The ground was still covered in slush from the other night’s flurry and Dan could feel it seeping through the hole in his shoe and making his socks wet. He was cold and wet and, although he was loathe to admit it, he’d been crying so everything seemed so heavy. Although Phil tried his hardest to take care of him there were some things he just didn’t understand, like why Dan was so upset about what the teachers had said to him, and it made Dan wish all the more that he could just snuggle up with his Mama and tell her his troubles as he’d done when he was very small. It was times like that his chest hurt so much from missing her that he could scarce breathe.

It was funny really, Dan didn’t really miss his Mama in the same way he had his father when he’d died. When his Papa had died he’d gone from seeing him every day to never seeing him again, he’d cried along with his family and friends and there had been a funeral for him to say goodbye at. With his Mama he hadn’t seen her in two months and there had been nobody who knew her to cry with and no funeral for him to say goodbye. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grieving, it’s just somehow in the back of his mind there was always the thought that she would be there, waiting for him to come home to her.

When his Papa had died he never had the opportunity to forget as the curtains were always drawn in the house and it was quiet and still and whenever he saw his mother she was dressed in black. He had nothing to distract him from the knowledge that his Papa was dead and he’d never see him again. At the school he was constantly kept busy and his mind was filled with worries, so whenever the reality hit him it was seemingly random and in short bursts. He hadn’t really had the chance to properly mourn like he had his father, so the aching loss crept up on him cruelly when he was doing something as mundane as washing the dishes and he’d find himself crying and unable to stop. He wanted to be strong and soldier on, and most days he could, but today wasn’t one of them.

He thought about what his Papa would say about him now, whether he’d recognise him or not, Dan wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, every time he looked in the mirror he barely recognised himself. It wasn’t just his appearance, though he was a lot thinner and covered in a grime that no amount of scrubbing seemed to be able to remove, it was his personality too. He was an awful lot more serious now than he’d ever been, even more so than when he was living in the same house as Johnson. The combination of grief and starvation had really taken it out of him and without Phil there to ground and comfort him he didn’t know what he’d have done.

He thought of the boy he had been and the boy he was now and smiled to himself bitterly. The last time he’d visited London with his family he’d been worried about a boy who sat on the steps of their hotel waiting for carriages to come so he could run up and help with the bags in the hope of a few pennies, he’d begged his father to give him some money the day they’d left because;

“His clothes are so ragged and he looks so thin!”

And his father had agreed and given him a shilling, saying you should always help people less fortunate if you could. Dan looked at his own attire and wondered if he looked poor and hungry enough to be given pity money, he blushed at the thought and bowed his head, thinking he’d die from embarrassment if anybody ever tried. It was funny, now that he was in no position to turn his nose up he  _despised_  charity. He did have to admit to himself that he looked awful, his clothes were clean and patched but were so worn and thin it was a wonder that they hadn’t come apart at the seams. He was also wearing Phil’s stupid flat cap because his hair was such a curly ratty mess he’d not wanted to walk out in public with it, though now he considered what the rest of him looked like it felt quite silly.

He thought about something that had happened earlier in the week and felt quite ashamed of himself. He wondered what his Papa would have said about it, Dan had to admit it wasn’t his finest hour.

***

_“You bother me with how bitter you are about everything,” Phil commented one day as he watched Dan savagely eat a bread roll he’d nicked from the bakers and scowl at the pauper children who gazed at it longingly, “How someone can go from buying a servant cakes to not sparing a starving child a bit of stale bread is beyond me,”_

_“Well, when I was buying you cakes I had money, didn’t I? I could afford to make sure you weren’t hungry. Now, I’m literally a slave and I’m starving, I can’t be a nice person on an empty stomach, you know that Phil,”_

_Phil pursed his lips disapprovingly and walked over to the thin little girl on the steps and gave her an apple from the basket with a warm smile. Dan rolled his eyes and groaned when the other came back._

_“You’re going to get scolded by Cook, you know that right?”_

_Phil smiled and shrugged his shoulders, carrying on walking and swinging the basket._

_“I don’t care, if you can do a good deed, you should,”_

_“Oh my god, Phil! For someone who isn’t a Christian you sure do a good job of being a smug do-gooder!” Dan said, glowering at his friend who was smiling sweetly and looking far too proud of himself for his liking, “Sorry I’m not perfect like you, sorry I’m not Saint Phil!”_

_“I’m not perfect and I’m not asking you to be! I just wish you’d be more compassionate, that’s all,” Phil said reproachfully, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be so sorry for yourself all the time, the more you wallow in self-pity the more sour you become. It’s wearing a little thin Dan,”_

_Dan stopped dead in the middle of the market and scowled, looking more and more like a spoilt toddler by the minute._

_“What do you mean ‘it’s wearing thin’? I’m allowed to be sad, my Mama just died-“_

_“-My Ma and Da are dead too you know and I’ve been in this hell hole longer than you! Grieving is fine, I get it I really do, but being spiteful towards tiny children who probably haven’t eaten in days is just not on,”_

_“Being spiteful? Because I didn’t give my lunch away?” Dan laughed incredulously, shaking his head, “I’ve not eaten since lunch yesterday and I’ve been up since five on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. I’m not allowed to eat bread now? It’s not being spiteful, it’s having self-preservation,”_

_Phil simply looked at him sadly, straightening his cap with a dejected air about him._

_“I love you Dan, I do,” he said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening, “But you can’t just… I give what I can, I work hard and I spend half my time looking after you. I’m tired too, I’m hungry too… but I know what it’s like having to beg for food. I know in half an hour I’m going to get lunch back at the school. It’ll be leftovers, probably cold, and it won’t taste great, but I know I’m going to be fed. They don’t.”_

_Dan simply sighed._

_“Don’t preach at me Phil, I’m not in a good place at the moment and I really don’t need it,”_

***

Dan hung his head and felt tears prick at his eyes. He hated everything about himself at the moment; he used to be so kind and caring, even when things had gotten bad at the beginning, he still  _tried_. Now it all just felt too hard.

Finally he reached the school again and was about to turn to go down the stairs leading to the kitchen when the pupils all walked past, back from a walk to the park. He bowed his head and tried to make himself invisible and blend into the wall but it didn’t quite work and he ended up standing there in plain sight while he reminded himself he wasn’t a chameleon so he couldn’t camouflage so really he just looked like an idiot for even trying that stupid tactic. He swallowed hard when he saw the line of feet stop and he felt dread pool in his stomach when he looked up to see Barrymore’s cruel pinched face looking down at him, her eyes glinting with malice.

“What are you doing out here boy?” she asked loudly, deliberately drawing the attention of the other boys, “I thought I told you to polish the banister rail!”

Dan straightened up and tried to feign confidence but he knew it hadn’t worked when he caught a glimpse of a smirk on Thomas Ganz’s face.

“I did it before I came out miss,” he said quietly, resigned to the fact that this was going to be yet another humiliating moment to add to the list of things that made him want to cry at night, “I went out to the post office for Mr Drew and then to the market,”

She glowered at him and peered into his basket that was covered over and he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest, he silently prayed that she wouldn’t look in so he wouldn’t be subjected to the mortification of revealing it to all of the others.

“And what did you get from the market?” she asked, snatching away the cloth, her eyes lighting up as she plucked the spool of thread and pack of needles from the basket, “Who are these for?”

Dan’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to look her in the eye, not allowing himself to break. He swallowed and continued as if he wasn’t remotely affected.

“Me ma’am. Some of my clothes need mending so I bought something to sew them with,”

He heard Thomas’s crowing laughter and the titters of the other boys but he said nothing, he shouldn’t be made to feel embarrassed for doing something necessary but he couldn’t help but feel a prickle of shame. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and felt himself crumbling, he hated himself for allowing her to get to him over nothing, but he really couldn’t help it.

“I know you’re very effeminate Daniel but taking up embroidery is a bit much, even for you,” she said, raising one eyebrow as she dropped it back in the basket, “Anyway, if you could learn to be less clumsy maybe you wouldn’t have to waste your time fighting a losing battle patching up that disgrace of a wardrobe of yours,”

Dan swallowed hard and stood a little straighter, wondering why he was so embarrassed in the first place, it was just sewing, he didn’t think less of Phil for doing it so why the mortification when it was himself? And yes, his clothes weren’t the nicest, but they were all he had and wasn’t it a good thing he was caring for them? It was then he caught a flash of Thomas’s kingfisher blue coat in the corner of his eye and it hit him like a wave. He wasn’t embarrassed because he was sewing; he was embarrassed because he was poor enough to  _have_  to. He no longer had the luxury of having a maid sew it for him or even to just replace it, he now had to make do and that’s why he was being looked down upon by his peers, because they were no longer his peers, they were his betters and he was just some penniless servant who had to darn his own socks in the wee hours of the morning.

He hated Barrymore even more so than he thought possible, how could she mock him for being poor? How could she be so cruel as to turn his misfortune into something for the other’s to laugh at? She did it only to hurt his already aching pride, she wouldn’t break him though, he wouldn’t let her-

-but before he knew it he was slumping and giving a sad defeated smile, adjusting the basket on his arm.

“Yes Mrs Barrymore, I’ll make sure to be more careful in the future,” he said, his voice sounding submissive even to his own ears, “Is- is there anything you need ma’am? It’s just I’m supposed to be cleaning the schoolroom before dinner…”

She gave a self-satisfied smirk and waved him off, dismissing him without a word as she lead the line of astonished boys back into the building, some of them wondering aloud what had happened to the proud little lord who’d rather have his ears boxed than back down from an insult.

Dan bowed his head and walked down the stairs leading to the kitchens, completely lost in thought. He was tired and cold and hungry, he looked a state and he had not a penny to his name, he had no right to be filled with his own self-importance when he wasn’t even worthy enough of a wage, or even proper meals and clothes.

After all, what’s the point in pride when you’ve nothing to be proud of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this part was quite heavy but I’m afraid the next will be even more so as ten sort of marks the beginning of the end! I estimate about another three parts after ten and possibly an epilogue depending on whether or not it feels right, you know?


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey Dan!” Phil said, excitement shining in his eyes, “Look at that!”

Dan looked up from counting the cobbles as they walked to see a ‘Punch and Judy’ show in the square, about twenty children sat cross-legged on the floor looking up in rapture and lots of well to do parents and nursemaids watching the smiles on their little one’s faces, chattering amongst themselves.

“Mama and Papa took me to see one of those once!” Dan grinned, pulling Phil closer to the little tent to watch, “I think it was my ninth birthday? The circus came to town and this was one of the sideshows,”

Phil smiled at the bright puppets, giggling along with the children when Judy’s high shrill voice started shouting at her husband, and began to wonder yet again about Dan’s family life.

Phil sometimes wondered if Dan’s Mama and Papa truly were as wonderful as he said they were. Phil loved his own Ma dearly, but he knew she’d had flaws. She’d been a pretty young thing and she’d known it, she’d had a penchant for causing drama among her friends and deliberately starting fights with her husband over the silliest of things, but she’d loved Phil with all her heart and had done her best for her little boy. He knew she was a good person, but she did indeed have her problems. Same for his Da, really, he hadn’t been all bad. Yes, the man had been a drunk nearly all Phil’s life, had resorted to using his fists to solve problems and after his wife had died he’d been too struck by grief to go to work often enough to pay for anything, but when Phil was a child he’d tried bonding with him and he’d loved his wife with all his heart.

_‘He was still a scumbag, no matter ‘ow nice he was when I was a kid,’_

The way Dan spoke about his parents though, it was as if they were saints. Phil wondered if Dan’s grief was causing him to see them in a rose tint where they did no wrong and were perfectly angelic, but  _he’d_  never been like that about his parents. Even after his Da had passed he’d called it good riddance and stuck by the fact he was a bastard, Dan didn’t seem to be able to say a bad word.

Lady Howell had been a cherub of a woman, she gave to charity and devoted all her time not spent being a loving mother to helping the poor. She was delicate and fair and she’d taught Dan everything he knew without having to chastise. Lord Howell had been kind and just and had served for queen and country selflessly. He’d taught Dan to treat all with respect and had spent the days he wasn’t working playing with him in the gardens of their vast country estate. Even the maid, Mary, Dan spoke fondly of, as if she were a beloved aunt rather than just another servant. They were the perfect family according to Dan.

Phil wasn’t convinced.

No family was that perfect, everybody had their flaws. Did the Howells fight often? Was Dan simply spoilt and never punished when he should have been? Were there things going on behind closed doors that they tried to hide from their son? Phil didn’t know, but the saint like image Dan painted of them was almost too sickly sweet for Phil’s liking.

Hearing Dan ramble about yet another family outing they’d been on had only made him question the supposed picturesque childhood even more. He was loathe to bring it up with the boy though, Dan was fragile enough without Phil trampling all over his beloved memories and tainting them.

 _‘Maybe I’m just jealous that somebody had a happier life than I did?’_ he thought,  _‘Maybe Dan really did have the happiest childhood of them all?’_

Still, when Dan spoke of them he was at his happiest and who was Phil to complain? He looked at Dan, who had cheered up considerably from the depressed slump he’d been in ten minutes ago, and decided that he was going to treat them.

“Come on,” he said with a smile, grabbing Dan’s cold hand and pulling him away from the show across the road to the bakery and through the door.

“But Phil,” Dan muttered, looking over his list with confusion, “We don’t need anything from the bakery today, Cook made bread just yesterday,”

But Phil ignored him and walked up to the counter, looking through the glass.

“How can I help you?” the kindly old woman behind the till asked, peering down at the two boys.

“Could I have one cinnamon bun please miss?” Phil asked, grinning at Dan who was looking very put out, “It’s his fifteenth birthday today so I’m getting his present,”

“Phil!” Dan squeaked, his face flushing from embarrassment but still smiling happily, “But-“

“No buts!” he laughed, pulling out two pence and handing it over to her, taking the paper bag, “Thank you!”

“Happy Birthday love,” she said smiling, “You thank your big brother now,”

Dan opened his mouth to correct her but changed his mind, turning to Phil and giving him a huge hug.

“Thank you Phil!”

As they left the shop and rounded the corner Dan looked up to Phil and beamed, a dimple popping on his now rosy cheeks.

“It’s not even my birthday,” he said fondly.

“No,” Phil said slowly, starting to swing the heavy basket they were holding between them, “But Christmas wasn’t very good for you this year, so I thought today would be a nice time to celebrate something, maybe we can do it again when it’s your  _actual_ birthday?”

Checking around to see if no one was looking, Dan tugged the basket from Phil’s hand, put it on the floor, and got on his tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, throwing his arms around his neck, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,”

That night they sat on Phil’s bed with a candle, sang a silly ‘Happy Birthday’ and split the bun between them, leaning on each other for support as they giggled tiredly, curling up together and slowly falling asleep, tangled so close you couldn’t tell whose limb was who’s.

* * *

 

It was cold, so cold you could see your breath curling in front of your face. Phil took one look at Dan’s pitiful face and grabbed a hold of his bedcovers and threw them in top of the other boy’s, getting in bed with him and clinging to him tight. Both boys’ teeth were chattering and Dan was wearing three pairs of socks and a jumper, neither were too happy when a particularly strong gust of wind blew the warped window open with a loud bang, the noise startling Dan so much he yelped and nearly fell from the bed.

Thick snowflakes flurried into the attic through the open window and the room became so bitterly cold it stung at their skin. With a groan Phil got out of bed and went to shut it, Dan trailing reluctantly behind him, the both of them struggling with the frost covered glass.

“I hate that window,” Dan grumbled as he tried to help Phil force it shut to no avail, “Can’t we just nail it shut?”

“I’ll try find something in the morning,” he promised, swearing under his breath when the window was blown back, “Jesus!”

The two battled with it but it just wouldn’t shut. Dan had used to love snow, he thought it was beautiful and he loved how even at night its presence brightened things. Now he hated it with a passion.

“Look at that nutter! What does she think she’s doing out on a night like this?” Phil gasped, sweating from exertion despite the cold.

Dan looked out of the window to wear Phil was pointing and caught sight of a round woman with dark brown hair bustling down the street, her eyes flitting from sign to sign.

“She looks like my Mama’s old maid, Mary,” Dan commented absently, squinting down at her, not noticing Phil rolling his eyes, “Maybe she’s lost Phil? It’s nearly morning after all, she could just be setting off for work,”

Phil snorted and waved him off, still fighting to close the window and frantically batting the flying curtain from his face.

“I don’t care! Just help me close it!”

After much fighting they managed to force the heavy window shut, the two of them panting and covered in snowflakes, shivering. Eventually they flopped back into bed, cold, tired and wet.

* * *

 

Dan walked down the street feeling nauseous with hunger and his face ached. He’d missed breakfast because he’d spent too much time opening all of the curtains and lighting the fires and when he’d begged for some leftovers he’d gotten a slap, Phil had tried to sneak him something but it hadn’t worked and only gotten him in trouble too. After the trauma of the window in the night he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep meaning he was tired and sluggish, he decided he detested snow.

He looked down at his shopping list with a scowl, usually him and Phil did it every Wednesday but today he’d been made to do it on his own because some pupil’s parents were visiting and they’d wanted him out of the school. Dan resented it because he and Phil got to spend precious little daylight hours together without their weekly opportunity of a small walk together being cut short.

He was nearly at the greengrocers when suddenly he caught a flash of a familiar face, his head turned quickly and he felt his heart speed up. Her round welcoming face was lined with age and worry and her dark brown frizzy hair had a lot more grey than he remembered, but walking away from him across the street was, without a doubt, his mother’s maid and the woman who’d helped raise him, Mary. He gasped and dropped the list in his basket, dashing after her.

“Mary! Oh Mary!”

The woman gave a start and turned on her heel, her eyes widening in shock as Dan dropped the basket and threw his arms around her neck, tears welling up in his big brown eyes.

“Master Dan?” she gasped, the breath knocked out of her, “Is that really you?”

Dan felt himself bubble with joy and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning, a dimple popping in his cheek.

“Mary,” he said with such happiness she felt herself begin to smile with him, “How I’ve missed you! I thought I’d never see you again!”

“And I you!” she laughed back in surprise, cupping his cheek with one rough hand, “I thought you were dead, I didn’t hear anything from you after Lady Lily… What happened to you!?” She stepped back and looked at his clothes and body in horror, her eyes darting to the red handprint still on his face, “Where have you been?!”

Dan shook his head and held her hand comfortingly, trying his hardest to appease her, when he saw it wasn’t working he sighed and shook his head.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit down so I can tell you all about it,”

Dan scooped up his basket and lead Mary to him and Phil’s usual spot (the steps outside a small church) but she dragged him straight past and took him to a little café, ordering a pot of tea and a croissant bun. Dan paled at the price and begged her to let them go elsewhere, somewhere cheaper, but she simply waved him off, muttering something about her nephew and his job and more money than before.

“So then, tell me all,” she said seriously as she watched him battle to slowly eat the bun, obviously wanting to gulp it down whole.

He closed his eyes and savoured the cinnamon for a moment, his face slowly regaining colour. He began to explain to her, everything from Phil to the letter Johnson had sent, cutting out a lot of the more harsh details. He couldn’t evade her questions for long though because as soon as he’d finished she pounced on him, fighting for details.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re so thin, or why your clothes are such a mess-“

“-Hey!”

“Or why there’s a handprint on your face!”

Dan swallowed and sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I’m thin because I don’t eat enough,” he murmured, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, of all the people to have to explain this to he hated the fact it was the lovely Mary who’d helped raise him, “And my clothes aren’t the best because I do all the messy work and I’m quite clumsy so they get torn and dirty, but I clean them and Phil taught me how to mend them and… well, my trousers are only a little short but everything else is too big so…”

He played with his dainty teacup for a bit, thinking about how long it had been since he’d actually drunk from one rather than cleaned it, when he heard a muffled sob. He looked up to see Mary dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief, her mouth in a tight, painful, smile.

“Tell me about the mark,” she whispered, her voice wavering, “I want to know,”

He was silent a moment longer.

“Cook backhanded me,” he said simply, looking down at his dirty hands and suddenly feeling out of place, “I missed breakfast and asked for some bread or something and she got angry so she slapped me. It- it isn’t anything I can’t handle Mary, it’s just a silly slap-“

“-But it isn’t is it?” she snapped louder than she’d meant, attracting the attention of a few people around them, some of whom had been looking at Dan with disgust anyway, “I know what  _that man_ did to you Daniel, I saw what he did to your mother. But this is more than that, isn’t it? There’s no one to protect you there,”

“Phil tries,” he offered, feeling rather defeated when he realised how quickly she’d seen through his lies, “He always does his best to look after me but there isn’t much he can do…”

“How often?” she asked, her voice steely.

“Pardon?”

“How often do they hit you?”

Dan hadn’t really thought about it before, he wondered if cuffs around the ear were included, or attempted slaps that he’d ducked out of the way of, because he got them at least twice a day. He suddenly realised with a dead apathy that it had become such a fact of his day to day life that he’d ceased to really care.

“I get slapped almost every day…” he said dispassionately, going into defence mode where he glazed over, he began to feel sick and ducked his head, the room spinning, “The ruler a few times and the cane only once, that’s when I really messed up… it’s less than at home though. If I’m in trouble I usually just get shouted at and sometimes they take my dinner away from me, it isn’t as bad as it could be Mary, I promise. Phil has it so much worse than me,”

He placed the teacup down and rested his hands on the table, surprised when she grabbed a hold of them with more tenderness than he’d thought ever possible. She began to examine them intently, he wasn’t sure why until she sighed, soothingly rubbing circles on his outstretched palms.

“The only time I’ve ever seen blisters on your fingers was when you were writing that ‘novel’ when you were eight,” she hummed, running her fingers over a grazed knuckle and gently prodding a white scar on his little finger, “Your hands were so soft then… only used to playing piano and reading books, that’s why you got a blister just there. They’re so rough now,”

Dan smiled and shook his head.

“I don’t play the piano anymore, the music teacher tried to sneak me a few lessons but I was too tired to play, I did a bit at Christmas though,”

“How did you get these then?” she asked, poking at each little cut and scrape, just like she’d done when he was a child before she patched him up and sent him on his way.

“I grazed my knuckle on the fireplace,” he explained, rolling his eyes as he recalled it, “Phil made such a fuss! Out of all of my many injuries he could worry over it had to be a little scrape! The burn was from my first washing day, I wasn’t paying attention and accidentally splashed boiling water over my hands,” he shuddered, “I cried and embarrassed myself,”

She smiled and raised his hand to her lips, kissing each little injury and soothing it like she’d done so many times, but this time it felt heavier, as if it were for the last time or that it somehow meant  _more_.

“You always were a baby, cried at everything you did,” she said fondly, her eyes weary and tired, “But I think you can be excused for crying at this, did your Phil laugh?”

Dan shook his head as though the thought was ridiculous.

“No! Phil never laughs at stuff like that, he cares too much. No, he forced my hands in the cold water bucket and patted my head until I stopped crying, he’s good at things like that,”

Mary silently thanked God for the angel that was Phil, just from the way Dan spoke of him she knew he was his saving grace. She called over the waiter and ordered more tea and another bun, glaring at the man when he rather pointedly gave Dan a disapproving glance.

“Mary?” Dan said quietly, wishing he’d put more effort in before going out and had done more than wash his face and run a comb through his hair, “I- Could you cancel that order please? I-I don’t like it here, everybody’s looking at me… I don’t… I don’t fit in places like this anymore, I look a state,”

“Nonsense! You’re a lord aren’t you? Just because you’re a bit of a diamond in the rough at the moment doesn’t make you any less of a diamond,”

Dan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that and smile wryly, Mary had always been full of idioms and had loved to spout them at him. He relaxed a little and even plucked up the courage to thank the waiter as his tea was poured, revelling in the jump of shock the man gave when he used his best ‘little prince’ accent (as Phil called it).

“Did you walk down by the school early this morning?” he asked, the image of the woman in the storm springing to mind, “Or did I just imagine it was you?”

“No, it was me, I was heading off to the library to try and find a record of the schools in the area,” she explained, “Why? Did I walk past where you’ve been staying?”

“Yes, the window blew open and when we were trying to shut it I saw you… Anyway Mary,” Dan said after another sip of tea, “What happened after I left? Mama didn’t really say much in her letters to me and Mr Drew didn’t explain properly about Johnson,”

Mary let out a long suffering sigh and took a hold of his hand again, squeezing it tight.

“After you left for school things calmed down a little,  _he_ was almost pleasant if you can believe that,” she snorted and bustled in her seat, rather reminding Dan of a chicken ruffling up its feathers, “Then your Mama started to get ill again, mainly with worry about you and how you were doing at school, though your letters were a comfort to her dear, but also about money,”

“Money?” Dan asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Yes,  _he_ ,”Mary always referred to him that way, as if the thought of him left a bad taste in her mouth, “ _He_ had her purse strings pulled tight and wouldn’t give her anything at all and started doing the books himself, he started putting pressure on her to amend her will and tell him the full details of your Papa’s as well but she didn’t say a word to him and put off the paperwork. Things also started going missing and running into disrepair, by the time poor Lady Lily passed away there was only a fifth of the staff left! Of course, after Johnson realised he couldn’t access her money he disappeared with half the silverware and the Chippendale cabinet from the hall, goodness knows how he carried  _that_ out! Then there was an enquiry from your Mama’s banker but with Johnson gone and you not of age they just decided to close up the house and dismiss the staff, it’ll be yours not before long,”

Dan thought about his home without the comforting staff or the great silver candlesticks that had a dent in them or the cabinet that had fascinated him so as a child, and felt a sense of emptiness he couldn’t quite explain. He didn’t know what he’d expected really, without a master or mistress to live there of course the staff would be dismissed, he just hadn’t thought about it before.

“Is it true there’s nobody that tried to claim me?” Dan asked, trying to understand but failing, “I’d have thought somebody would have sent for me? Don’t I have a trust fund? A backup?”

Mary sighed heavily and shook her head.

“No Master Bear, you see, only your stepfather and his lawyer knew where your school was and with him gone and his lawyer  _conveniently_ -” she scowled at that, “-being away there was nobody to ask. The money was all inaccessible so there was nothing to pay for an investigation with either,”

“You sent me a letter though, surely you had to know the address just to send it?” Dan pointed out, irritated at the lack of effort that had been put into finding the next Lord Howell and ensuring he was safe, “And haven’t I any family left at all? I must somewhere along the line!”

“ _That man_  read all of your Mama’s letters over and sent them himself, the same with mine, so none of us knew where you were. Your mother was convinced you were at Harrow,” Mary was nearly in tears at this point, her hair frizzing as she ran her hands through it in distress, “I tried to contact somebody for you, I remembered your father had an uncle called Lord Harrington out in the country somewhere. I think he was a bachelor without children so I was convinced he’d be happy to take you, when I told your parents’ lawyers they weren’t interested, I think they want you to not appear at all so they can have an excuse to claim your inheritance,”

Dan laughed mirthlessly and raised one eyebrow.

“I’d like to see them try!” it was at that point the clock in the corner of the room struck five and Dan was sent into a panic, he snatched up the new cinnamon bun and wrapped it in a napkin and shoved it in his pocket, “I have to go! I’m so late, Mrs Barrymore’ll kill me!”

He pecked Mary on the cheek and was about to run from the café when she grabbed him by the arm and pressed a coin in his grubby hands.

“Take this,” she said solemnly, “I know where you are now and if I find out anything more I’ll contact you, now go,”

But Dan was staring at the coin in his hands with misty eyes, never in his life had he ever thought he’d be accepting money from one of his servants.

“It’s a crown Mary,” he said, his voice a little choked, “Can- can you afford to give me this?”

“Yes of course I can you silly boy,” she said breathily, she too trying not to cry, “Now leave, I don’t want you in trouble now,”

After one last kiss and hug Dan went rushing off, tripping over his own feet in his haste.


	11. Chapter 11

Phil heard the noise from across the school and instantly felt his blood run cold. He was in the dining room serving dinner and the usual quiet chatter of the boys fell silent at once, the loud ‘crack!’ shocking them. Phil felt dizzy with dread and he had to put his serving plate down and hold himself upright on the table for a moment, after the first another five followed in quick succession.

He froze in place, expecting the sounds to stop any minute but they didn’t, they just kept going. He hung his head, wincing at each blow and prayed that Dan was alright. When the blows finally ceased after what felt like an age, he raised his head tears welling up in his eyes.

The atmosphere in the dining room had changed completely, this was even bleaker than when somebody had been sent up to be caned. The last time any of them had heard someone get the strap was when Phil had been accused of theft, the thought sent a strike of fear through each of them and left even Ganz looking pale with shock.

“Phil,” Mr Brown said gently, shocking the boy enough to make him start, “Why don’t you go get Dina to finish serving?”

Phil shook himself from his fear, finally beginning to see clearly again though his mind raced with worry. He thanked the teacher profusely and ran from the room, not taking him long to get down to the kitchens. When he ran in the room he was met by the sight of Dina and Josh both sat at the table looking as though they’d seen a ghost. Without a word Dina got to her feet and went upstairs and Phil quickly began to heat some water and find some cloth, Joshua swearing under his breath.

“Dina said he’s gone upstairs,” Joshua said, but Phil had already vanished up the winding stairs to his attic.

 

* * *

 

Phil hurried into the room with a bowl of warm water and clean rag, motioning for Dan to take his shirt off. Gently Dan got to his knees on the floor facing away from Phil and tried to stop crying, his whole body shaking as he struggled to undo the buttons.

“Damn,” Phil whispered, kneeling behind him, unable to take his eyes off the raised welts that adorned Dan’s back, angry lines of red and a few purpling belt buckle marks dripping with blood, he slowly dipped the cloth into the water and began to gently dab at each weal, his heart sinking at each pained whimper, “Oh Dan, what did you do?”

“I-I was late back and I told Cook it was because I’d been mugged and was too scared to come home,” he choked, clinging a pillow close to his chest and squeezing it tight, “She- she told Barrymore and I got such a whipping, ah!” fresh tears sprung as Phil pressed slightly too hard, guilt turning his stomach.

“I’m so sorry Bear!” he cried, gently rubbing soothing circles on an undamaged patch of skin, “Shhh! Shhh! I’m so sorry!”

Dan sobbed into the pillow, his whole body aching and his back ablaze. He kicked off his scuffed shoes, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, laughing mirthlessly through his tears as he noticed yet another hole in the socks he swore he’d darned last week.

“I-I lied though,” he forced out, his voice muffled by the pillow, “I’ve got the money still, and I was late because I saw Mary, we-we spoke,”

Phil quietly continued to clean his friend up, not saying anything for a while. After a few minutes he stopped and looked up, placing the now bloody rag back into the water.

“Your mother’s maid, Mary? You can tell me properly later,” he said finally, his eyes still running over Dan’s bruised and bloody form, “Before that let me sort you out and get you something to eat, you must be starving,”

Dan froze and closed his eyes tight, not wanting to make Phil sound any more disappointed with him than he already did.

“I’m not allowed,” he said quietly, “Miss said I’m not allowed anything until I’ve worked enough to repay the lost money,”

“And how much did you steal?” Phil asked coldly, wondering what the hell was so important to Dan that he thought it was worth getting beaten and starving over.

Dan flinched at the word and bowed his head, desperately not wanting to say but making himself.

“Four shillings,” he whispered, waiting for the explosion.

“Four shillings!?” Phil yelled, horror clouding his vision, “Fuck! Dan that’s- Fuck! That’s what I get in a week! That’s a week you’ll be paying that off, you’ll starve! You’ll die!”

Dan began to shake and turned to face him, his face white. He pulled out the cinnamon bun and the money from his pocket, the four shillings from Cook and the crown from Mary, and passed them to Phil with quivering hands.

“Mary told me there’s somebody left who might still want me,” he said, his eyes shining in the candlelight with determination, “My Papa had an uncle who’s a bachelor without children, she gave me his name and all the money she had on her. Phil, I swear I didn’t mean to steal the money, I swear! I just panicked when I had to come up with an excuse,”

Phil looked down at him in shock and shook his head in disbelief.

“No!” he muttered, looking down at the money and the slightly crushed bun, “I thought you said you didn’t have anybody left? Does this mean you’ve somebody you could ask for help?”

Dan nodded and grabbed Phil’s hand, holding onto him as if for dear life, sending the coins flying.

“We could escape Phil!”

“If you don’t starve to death first,” he pointed out, looking down at the coins scattered on the floor.

Dan laughed a little.

“I think she was just very angry, I’ll probably be able to eat again the day after tomorrow… besides, I have this pastry we can share,”

Phil shook his head.

“No,” he said, getting to his feet and scooping up some of the money, “I’ll go pay her off and say it’s from my wages, it’d take a weight off my conscience and get you off the hook,”

“No Phil, you don’t have to!”

“I do, and you know it,”

* * *

 

Talking to Mr Drew hadn’t gone too well.

Phil stumbled his way downstairs, his chest hammering and his head spinning, he hated this bit. He clung onto the railing beside the steep, narrow stairs leading down to the kitchens and tried to breathe deeply, the bile rising in his throat. It was a wonder he made it down the stairs without falling as his legs felt so weak, but he pressed on, knowing that if Drew was made to wait it would only get worse. He pushed open the kitchen door, wincing at the creak and forced himself in, not making eye contact with Joshua or Dina as he closed it behind him. With shaking hands he took down the strap from its hook behind the door and felt its heavy weight in his hands, he looked at it for one second, the image of Dan’s mutilated back springing to mind, before letting it drop to the floor, dashing over to the wash bucket and emptying what little was left of his breakfast into it, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

“Oh Phil,” Joshua muttered, picking the strap from the floor and putting it on the table, gently leaning over to pat the boy awkwardly on the back, “What happened?”

Phil flopped back, his face a bleak grey.

“Dan was mugged and Drew whipped him and he isn’t allowed anythin’ to eat ‘til he’s paid the money lost back,” he choked, shaking like a leaf, “And I tried to pay for him because he’ll starve Josh! It’s four shilling-“

“Four shillin’?! They expect him not to eat for a week?”

“I know!” Phil said, his eyes fixed on the belt on the table at eye level, “But the master’s not having any of it. He won’t accept my money and when I tried begging he sent me for the strap,”

Joshua paled and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, even Dina had the decency to look sympathetic.

“D’you want me to have a word?” Josh asked quietly, helping Phil shakily to his feet, holding him tightly so he wouldn’t fall, “Because I could! I don’t know how much good it would do though,”

Phil grimaced and hung his head, as much as he wanted to be protected from it, having Joshua take the fall for him was too much, this time it was his turn to take the punishment no matter how undeserved.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, “But no, I’ll take it. At least then it’ll be over and done with and not hanging over me,”

He grabbed the thick, heavy leather without looking at it, walking as quickly as he could from the room. Dina began to wring her hands and looked to Joshua with worry.

“I don’t like the boy but he don’t deserve that,” she said, her voice shrill, “If yer’d’ve seen the state of Daniel you’d know why he was shaking so much,”

The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both of them subconsciously waiting, the footman bit his lip and closed his eyes, his heart dropping when the first ‘crack!’ sounded through the house followed by a loud cry. He swallowed and listened, hearing the second one, as soon as they got to the third he sprang to his feet, his conscience catching up with him.

“I’m going to try and beg the master to let him be,” he explained as pulled his jacket on and put out his cigarette, hurrying when another blow fell, “I can’t listen to this,”

* * *

 

Phil hobbled into Dan’s bedroom, his face tearstained, and flopped face first on the bed beside him, his shoulders shaking from silent sobs. Dan dropped to his knees on the floor next to him and shook his head repeatedly, quiet murmurs of disbelief slipping through chapped lips.

“No! no no no no no,” he whispered, gingerly rubbing circles on Phil’s back, fat tears dripping down his cheek and tumbling to the floor, “Phil, oh god Phil!”

Phil didn’t say anything, he just breathed huge heaving sobs into Dan’s threadbare blanket, his eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry Phil!” Dan choked, his hands clenching together as if in prayer, “I’m so so sorry,”

Phil lifted his head slowly and hiccupped wiping his nose with his sleeve much to Dan’s silent disgust.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” he said, his voice wobbling, “Drew on-only got six in b’fore Josh came up and asked ‘im to stop,” he coughed and sniffed a little, looking down at Dan who was knelt looking as if he were going to beg, “C’mere,” he said, patting the bed nest to him, “I need a hug right now,”

* * *

 

Later that night, when they’d both calmed down and stopped crying, they lay on their sides as not to aggravate their backs, aching, on Dan’s bed, staring up at the naked beams on the roof. They were playing a game Phil had come up with one night when Dan was particularly miserable. It was a silly childish game that everybody had played at one point in their lives, Phil had called it ‘One day we’ll…’ and the name had stuck, they’d played it almost every bad night since.

“It’s your turn,” Phil said fondly, his hand clasped tight in Dan’s.

“Hmn… One day we’ll… go abroad! To France maybe-“

“-No, I want to go somewhere hot,” Phil protested, doing that smile where his tongue sat between his teeth, “Like Egypt, there are pharaohs there, or India!”

“France is hot in the south isn’t it? You could have some more of your precious ‘fraises’ if we went there,” Dan argued, punching the other lightly on the arm, “Besides, there aren’t pharaohs in Egypt anymore! That’d be like an Egyptian person saying they want to come to Britain to see King Arthur,”

“Shut up! I know there aren’t pharaohs anymore, I’m not an idiot! I want to see the pyramids and stuff…”

“Yeah well, this is  _my_ turn! You can dream about Egypt later,”

Phil laughed and rolled his eyes fondly, squeezing Dan’s hand just that tiny bit tighter.

“I’m taking my turn now!” he ignored Dan’s arguing and talked right over him, “One day we’ll… go on a ship around the world and see everywhere!” He sat upright with a wince, smiling down at Dan who seemed content to just lie, “You can learn new things from all around the world and become a geographer, and I can eat all of the new foreign food!”

Dan started to laugh really hard at that, mumbling that Phil was an idiot, when abruptly he sat upright, his face draining of colour.  Phil was about to ask what the matter was when he heard it too, the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming up the long winding creaky stairs. The last time Mrs Barrymore had been up was to lock them in as punishment, whatever she wanted now wouldn’t bode well for them. Quickly Phil darted over to his bed and stood beside it, his back ramrod straight, Dan followed suit and stood at the end of his own. They waited, terrified.

The footsteps reached the top and they cringed, waiting for the door to swing open, when there was a knock. They looked at each other in confusion, she hadn’t knocked the last time, she’d just barged in! Phil forced himself to act like the older one and readied himself.

“Um… come in?”

The door swung open and the pair flinched, standing to attention, their feet cold as they stood bare on the wooden floorboards. They waited for her banshee like voice to squawk at them, her skeletal figure to come stalking in… but that didn’t happen. Instead Joshua peered around the door, screwing his face up in apology when he saw how scared they both were.

“I’m really sorry boys!” he said sheepishly, not fully coming in, “I didn’t mean to startle you,”

Phil relaxed and walked over, opening the door for him.

“Come in! It’s fine, frightened us that’s all,” he smiled in relief, his eyes lighting up when he saw the covered over plate the man held in his hands.

The footman noticed his gaze and shook his head fondly, ruffling up Phil’s hair as he passed. He sat himself down on Phil’s bed and gestured to Dan to come over and sit beside him, wincing sympathetically when he saw how stiffly he walked. Phil pounced down on his other side and pulled the napkin off the plate without a hint of shame, cheering when he saw the cold ham and bread sat before him.

“I love you Joshua!” he sang, grabbing a slice of the bread and stuffing it in his mouth, “I really do,”

Dan wrinkled his nose at Phil’s bad table manners but still gave his thanks to Josh profusely, seeing the man in a new light.

“Well, I couldn’t stand the thought of yer both staving up here, especially when you didn’t do anything to deserve it,”

Dan felt very guilty at that and hung his head, thinking about how much trouble the footman could have been in if he were caught.

“Thank you, you’re the kindest man alive,” he said earnestly, taking a nibble from his chunk of cheese.

Josh blushed embarrassedly and scratched the back of his head.

“Nah, I’m just not one for following the rules,” he grinned widely and sat back and watched the two boys eat their fill, Dan eating very little very neatly and Phil just stuffing his face without a care in the world.

“Hey Josh,” Phil said with his mouth still full, “How long before you reckon Barrymore’ll let us out? I’ve been exiled away as well,”

“I dunno sorry, her and Mr Drew are really angry with you both,”

Dan’s appetite disappeared and he placed his bread down, his stomach doing flips at the look on Phil’s face. This was all his fault, Phil shouldn’t be being punished because of him, it just wasn’t fair. He clung to the bed sheets and waited for the nausea to die down, but it didn’t.

“Dan’s blaming himself,” Phil explained, taking one glance at the other’s sickly pallor and softly patting his hand, “Will you tell him he shouldn’t? He won’t listen to me Joshua,”

The footman frowned and leant forwards, tilting Dan’s face up so they were eye to eye. He looked at him very seriously for a moment, look in his pale drawn face and red rimmed eyes and he smiled.

“It isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, you shouldn’t even  _be_ here. But one day, when you’re Lord Howell, you can drag this school’s name through the dirt, tell every newspaper that’ll listen what they did to you. They’d deserve it Daniel, I know I’d cheer you on,”

Dan didn’t really know what to say to that, but he was thankful and Joshua must have picked up on the gratitude in his eyes as he patted him on the shoulder and gave Phil a sad smile.

“And with that I think I’ll take my leave,” the footman said, shaking his head at the two emotionally exhausted boys, “Goodnight you two,”

“Goodnight! Thanks for the food!” Phil called.

After Joshua had left they both snuggled back up together under the covers and tried to sleep, but the turmoil of the day seemed to catch up with Dan and he reached over to the desk and grabbed his father’s pocket watch and held it tight in his hands. Phil stroked his hair and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

“It’ll be alright, we’ve got a lead now, maybe we can find him and beg for help?”

Dan didn’t say anything but gave a weak smile and cuddled closer, his body in so much pain and his heart aching.


	12. Chapter 12

Dina was very pretty and she knew it. She had beautiful long auburn locks and big blue eyes and a pale little heart shaped face that looked lovely when she blushed, a few freckles standing out across her nose. She was lithe and small with the daintiest hands, more suited to a lady than a serving girl really. She was also a bitch.

“Phil! Oi! Philip, you listening t’me?”

He sighed heavily and turned around to face her, completely unimpressed.

“Yes Dina?” he huffed, a tiny bit more bored sounding than he’d intended.

Her face contorted as her nose screwed up, it always did when she was angry and it made her look slightly demented.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” she snapped, folding her arms, “Anyways, I want to know what’s wrong with his highness, he’s been in a strange mood for days and if anybody’s going to know what his problem is, it’s you. He doesn’t even look up when  _you_  talk to him!”

Phil looked at her as though she were mad and put down the plate he was cleaning, turning around to properly face her.

“He was whipped for being  _mugged_ Dina,” he said slowly, as if she were very stupid, “And whenever he even  _looks_ at Cook or Barrymore he’s guaranteed a slap, would you be alright if that’d happened to you?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“He’s had it comin’ to him for a while though, you have to admit,” she replied, though there was a hint of discomfort there, “Ever since he came as a pupil ‘e didn’t fit in, lording around an’ all that,”

Phil glowered at her.

“Maybe that’s ‘cause he  _is_ a lord,” he pointed out scathingly, “All he does is work hard and he never talks back, you’re all only so horrible to him because he’s an easy target, y’should be ashamed,”

He was expecting her to screech at him and kick up a fuss but was pleasantly surprised when she instead looked down at her feet, playing with the strings of her apron and leaning on the counter next to him.

“This morning he was staring out the window and not paying attention to anybody so I clapped to make him jump,” she said quietly, biting her lip, “I din’t expect him to flinch like he did, it was like he’d been burnt or somethin’. And the amount of apologising he did… it was like he’d done something dreadful, there were tears in his eyes and everything!”

She looked at Phil who’d stopped what he was doing altogether and instead was gazing down at the floor and trying to stop himself from crying, she gently patted him on the arm.

“What’s happened to him?” she asked, her voice soft with worry, “I mean, besides getting the belt?”

“I think he’s lost it, Dina, he used to have a spark but it’s gone,” Phil took a deep breath and tried his hardest to keep his voice steady, “I’m trying to keep his spirits up, lord knows I am, but it’s hard when there’s so little to be hopeful about, isn’ it?”

Dina nodded and tried to give a comforting smile but it turned more into a grimace.

“I suppose he went from having everything to eff all, can’t have been easy on him,”

“Especially when there were people like you trying to grind him down,” Phil was suddenly angry as he shrugged her hand away, his body stiffening, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You, Cook and Barrymore all pushed and pushed him ‘til he’s so nervous he jumps at the slightest noise! He’s so anxious he hasn’t eaten in  _days_ because every time he does he throws up, he’s terrified! He has nightmares that keep him up half the night and he’s in so much pain he cries when he tries to put on a shirt,”

Phil tried to quell his anger but he couldn’t, his mind bringing forth images of the broken boy who daren’t even speak, who clung to him at night with sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, who cried for his mother when he thought Phil was asleep or wasn’t listening.

“I found him praying the other night,” he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest, “He was on his knees, clinging to that fucking fob watch and begging forgiveness… Dina, he  _never_ prays! Even after his Ma died he didn’t pray… God, I’m so worried about him, I don’t know what to do,”

Dina looked as though she was about to say something but at that moment Cook walked back in and she quickly scarpered.

* * *

 

Whenever Dan had pictured himself in situations like this he’d imagined that he’d stand up for himself, that he’d swoop in to save the damsel in distress and fight against the dragon. The reality was something very different.

Phil was getting shouted at by Cook and had been slapped once or twice already, he didn’t look angry, just resigned as he occasionally ducked out of the reach of a swinging hand or muttered another half-hearted apology. Dan didn’t know how he did it, Phil was the one being knocked around and hardly reacting but Dan was only watching and he was terrified. It didn’t help that this was all Dan’s fault.

She was still angry because of the missing money because she’d also been shouted at, nowhere near as badly as Dan or Phil, but it had definitely been a blow to her pride. She was irritable about everything and her current victim of choice was Phil, he’d not dried a plate properly and when he’d been told off he’d ‘been impertinent’ with his apology. Dan was convinced that she’d learnt the word from Barrymore because whenever she said it it was in the same tone as the other woman.

By the time Dan had psyched himself up to tell Cook to leave Phil be, she’d given up on him and sent him off up to the library to do some polishing, anything to get him out of her way really. As soon as the coast was clear Dan followed after him and tiptoed his way up the stairs, thankful lessons were still in session so he didn’t have to put up with the usual stares.

Without a thought Dan swung open the library door and smiled timidly at Phil who had nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Sorry…”

Phil grinned and shrugged his shoulders beckoning Dan over to their usual window seat, a place that had seen them through both many a happy time but also a growing number of sad.

“It’s fine, you just made me jump, that’s all,”

Dan bowed his head and pulled out his watch again, playing with it.

“You know that’s not what I was talking about,”

Phil stared at the beautiful little clock that seemed so out of place in the hands of a serving boy. He watched Dan’s now rough fingers trace over the engraved crest, so gently he was barely touching it at all.

“Dan, why do you always hold onto that watch? I know your Da gave it to you, but why do you cling to it?” Phil asked gently, eager to change the subject but realizing it was a sensitive topic.

Dan thought about it for a while, spinning the watch on its chain and gazing at it intently.

“Well, it calms me down a bit. When I was younger I’d sit on Papa’s knee whenever I cried,” he said with a sad little smile, “He wasn’t very good at being comforting really, I mean, he  _tried_ … but he was a bit hopeless. One day he was just trying to distract me and he pulled it out of his pocket and began to describe it to me, I fell in love with it I guess…”

He stared at the watch pensively and popped it open, smiling at the familiar ticking hands.

“I don’t know anything about it, where it came from, who made it, I just know it was Papa’s and that he was fond of it. It calms me, it kind of feels like I’m holding his hand whenever I really panic, it helps,”

Phil smile and pecked him on the forehead, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him, slightly lopsided, into a hug.

“Well if you really panic again you can hold onto my hand as tight as you want,” he offered.

“Thanks Phil… though after earlier I feel as though I should be offering that to  _you_ ,” Dan looked up, biting his already chapped bottom lip until it bled, “I’m sorry, I really am. I wish I was strong enough to fight back, I wish I was stronger like you Phil. I’m so  _weak,_ I’m pathetic! It was all my fault-“

“-If you say that again I’ll get angry with you,” Phil interrupted mock sternly, “I’m serious though Dan, I’m fed up of you blaming yourself for things you can’t help. You aren’t weak, you’re just going through some horrible things at the moment,”

Dan frowned and curled up into an even tighter ball on the seat, as if he were trying to hide.

“I’ve got two years and six months left of this. Two years and six months until we can run away and never have to worry about anything again. I can do that,”

Although Dan was mainly trying to comfort himself with that, Phil seemed appreciative enough.

“Maybe we won’t have to wait that long,” Phil said thoughtfully after a little while, “Don’t get your hopes up mind, but on Saturday it’s my day off, I could go do a little research on this Lord Harrington if you’d like?”

Dan sat up straight and looked at Phil with such excitement it made the older boy glad to see.

“Would you?! Thank you Phil! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Phil laughed and hugged him tight.

“I said don’t get your hopes up! Now go away, don’t want Barrymore finding you in here now do you?”

* * *

 

It was Phil’s one day off a month at long last and he had the day to himself. Usually he used the time to sleep in and relax, going out and buying essentials like soap, a few second-hand items of clothing if really necessary and the occasional candle if he hadn’t been able to nick enough stubs that month. Today was different though, he was on a mission. He got up only an hour later than usual, put on a mix of his best clothes (with a few supplements from Dan’s wardrobe) and made his way downstairs with a skip in his step.

“Looking smart there Phil,” Dina teased, still trying to get on his good side after his little outburst the other day, “Going to see your sweetheart?”

Phil rolled his eyes and brushed her off, giving her a small smile in acceptance of her unsaid apology.

“Nah, I’m going to the library, I fancy reading a new book,”

She watched him in bewilderment as he danced out of the door, skipping down the street to the library, practicing his poshest accent.

He’d never been in a proper library before, the closest he’d come was the one at the school which really wasn’t up to much; this was on a whole other level. It was lined with tall oak bookshelves filled with leather bound books in bright jewel colours, gold gilt standing out in cursive letters. It had that sweet and slightly musty smell that only came with old papers that lingered in the air and made him feel dizzy. All he wanted to do was grab the nearest tome and run, the want of more information to devour filling him and nearly making him try it before he shook himself and remembered what he was actually there for.

He felt very small and out of place as he tiptoed up to the desk, cursing himself for thinking that putting on his Sunday best would make him less noticeable. He shakily tabbed the bell and waited. As if out of nowhere a gentleman with wild hair and round glasses appeared, bending double over the desk and clattering loudly, shocking Phil and breaking the deafening silence.

“Yes? How can I help you boy?” he wheezed, somehow managing to sound kindly but still sharp.

“Ah! Um…” Phil stumbled over his words as he rooted around in his pocket for the scrap of paper Dan had given him, “I was wondering if you could help me find some information on Lord Harrington?”

The librarian regarded him quizzically over the top of his glasses that were slipping down his nose. He screwed up his eyes and hummed under his breath.

“And why would  _you_ want to know about him?” he asked sharply, “You aren’t going to ask him for charity I hope? He won’t give you any,”

Phil floundered for a minute before deciding to act irritated when really he was just a tad hurt that even looking his best he still looked a pauper.

“I’m from the boy’s school down the road! I’m in charge of the school news pamphlet, this term we’re focusing on lineage and one of the boys is convinced that he’s distantly related to Lord Harrington, I came to inquire about him just to check,”

Phil was quite proud of himself, he’d managed to imitate the look Dan did when he was feeling particularly regal perfectly and had even thrown in a glower down his nose a la Ganz. It must have worked because the librarian instantly began to help the ‘young sir’ and he was given newspaper upon newspaper from the archives to skim over before he finally found the name he was looking for. It was a tiny article from a local paper about a donation to a hospital.

‘LORD HARRINGTON HELPS THE SICK AND DESTITUTE!’

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the headline but quickly jotted down the name of the hospital and thanked the librarian once more before he dashed away.

Finding the hospital was harder than he’d anticipated, it turned out there were a lot more hospitals and infirmaries in London than he’d thought. He’d eventually asked a policeman for directions, spinning a lie about a dying aunt and influenza, and found himself in Whitechapel, somewhere he really,  _really_ didn’t want to be. It had only been a year since the last murder and there had been reports of muggings gone wrong and he was suddenly regretting his best getup, terrified he was going to be stabbed. As soon as he arrived at the hospital he was filled with a great relief and he sagged against the door.

Getting information was easier there than it had been at the library. He’d pulled the lineage project card again, done his best posh boy chortle a few times and slipped a few choice anecdotes he’d heard about Dan’s childhood into conversation and people had told him everything he’d wanted to know. He left with a wealth of information and decided to treat himself with a pasty from a vendor, he was happy and bright with success and was certain he’d finally get to meet the man he’d learnt so much about. That was until he got to the club.

He’d quite confidently walked up to the doors of ‘The Kestrel Club’ and gone up to the desk but the man had taken one look at him and demanded he leave. Realising that pretending to be a public schoolboy wasn’t going to work here he tried a different tact.

“Please sir, my master sent me!” he tried desperately, shaking his arm in an attempt to free it from the man’s grasp, “Lord Howell sent me sir, I’m to deliver a message to Lord Harrington! It’s a matter of great urgency, he told me I must deliver it to his face!”

But Phil wasn’t allowed to finish and found himself thrown to the curb. When he tried to scramble back up the stairs the door slammed in his face and he sighed, defeated.

* * *

 

“So how did it go?” Dan asked, trying to appear nonchalant but failing miserably, “What did he say? You did find him, right?”

Phil began to get undressed out of his ridiculous outfit and slung his tie on the floor with a sour expression.

“I walked all the way to Whitechapel only to get sent away at the door, I’ll try again though Dan. Maybe you could ask Mary to have a word?”

Dan shook his head, the helpless feeling of nausea coming back and the taste of bile pricking a the back of his throat, it only worsened when he saw the neat purpling bruises that still stood prominent up and down Phil’s bare back. He swallowed hard and poured himself a glass of water from the chipped jug on the desk, sipping it a few times before giving up and accepting the fact he was probably going to vomit with nerves.

“I- she didn’t give me her address, there was no time,” he shakily got to his feet and walked to Phil, gently running his fingertips over the raised welts, “Oh Phil, what are we going to do?”

Even though Phil knew Dan was no longer referring to Mary he was in no mood to talk about his hellish existence.

“We’ll just have to try something else, write a letter or something? I don’t know… We’ll figure something out,”

Dan ignored him and instead continued to trace the searing lines across the other’s back, occasionally finding white scars that had been there for years. He rested on the deepest one on Phil’s shoulder, flinching at the thought of the belt slipping and how hard the stray buckle must have come down to create a scar so deep.

“You don’t deserve this,” he whispered, tears from his earlier disappointment catching up with him, “We don’t deserve this! What did we do that was so bad? Why are we being punished?”

Phil had been waiting for this meltdown for a long time and in some ways was relieved that it was happening when he was around to contain it, he only wished it hadn’t been on a day like today when he just couldn’t cope.

“We’re- we aren’t being punished Bear,” he said, hoping the nickname would help calm him, “Well, not by God anyway if that’s what you mean,”

Dan turned him around and looked at him with such pity it made Phil angry.

“You’ve had this almost all your life, I bet you can’t remember any different,”

Phil glowered and snatched his nightshirt from the bed, slipping it over his head aggressively, soon regretting it when it brushed against his bruised back.

“When my Ma was alive things were different,” he spat, turning on his heel to glare at the younger boy, “Don’t you dare look down on me, just ‘cause I didn’t grow up in some fancy mansion with a maid and a pony dun’t mean I wasn’t happy!”

Dan flinched, usually Phil’s northern accent was soothing but hearing it turned on him in anger made it sound harsh and intimidating. He was unable to stop the overly emotional tears.

“I didn’t mean that! I bet your father whipped you even when your mother was alive, didn’t he?”

Phil nodded and shrugged his shoulders, looking at Dan as though he had a screw loose.

“Yeah, and? He only did it when I acted up. It was only bad after he started drinking more, but I guess I could get out of the way quicker when he was drunk,”

“Nobody ever raised a hand to me until Johnson married Mama,” Dan said soberly, his body quaking from both fear and the bitter chill, “I know what it’s like not to be scared I’m going to be hit when I mess up, I never had to worry… I don’t know how you can defend him after that,”

“I have to love him, he’s my Da,” Phil snapped, looking as though any second he’d lose his temper, “He looked after me after Ma died-“

“-No,  _you_  looked after  _him_ ,” Dan shook his head aggressively, “He neglected you to the point you went out and got a job,  _you_ were the one putting food on the table! Not him! And I bet even then he took some of it, didn’t he? I bet he spent it all on booze and had the nerve to beat you afterwards!”

Dan pulled his watch from his pocket and clung to it so tightly his knuckles went white. Phil laughed cruelly at that and threw his hands up in the air.

“-Oh aren’t I  _pitiable_? Lucky you!” Phil was angry now, his face flushed and his eyes wild, “Lucky little Lord Howell! You don’t think I know? You don’t think I wish things had been different? Anyway, it didn’t happen often and it was only when I’d done something stupid-“

“-And now you flinch whenever there’s a loud noise! Now you’re used to eating like a mouse. Now you’re more comfortable sleeping on your front than your back,” Dan ran a shaky hand through his hair and tried not to break down completely, “You shouldn’t have to put up with it Phil, nobody should,”

“At least I don’t stand there clinging to a fucking watch! It’s the most expensive comfort blanket I’ve ever seen Daniel!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Phil regretted them.

The two boys stared at each other for a while, Dan’s chest heaving and tears pouring down his face. Phil felt himself begin to crumble when Dan’s bottom lip began to quiver so he relented and opened his arms wide, smiling sadly when the younger boy crashed into him, and held him in a tight hug.

“Let’s just leave it,” Phil suggested as he sat them both down on the bed, “We’re both tired and sad and this isn’t the time for it. Come on, let’s just go to bed and talk about it more in the morning,”

Dan let himself be tucked in and fussed over but he wasn’t really there, he stared off into distance and ran his fingers over his family crest, tears still pouring down his face.

Phil was exhausted. He was tired of being the strong one, he couldn’t carry on supporting Dan when he was flagging so much himself, he just couldn’t do it anymore. Despite that, Phil knew that this time he’d gone too far but it was too late to take it back. He prayed that he’d be able to fix it but deep down he knew the damage had already been done.

* * *

 

“A peculiar boy came calling for you,” one of the waiters said as he poured Lord Harrington his tea, “Said Lord Howell had sent him,”

The old man looked up from his newspaper and frowned pensively, his tired face falling.

“What a cruel joke! Who do you think sent him?”

“I don’t know milord, he specifically said his master had sent him,” the waiter paused for a moment recalling it, “He looked a state, he could have just been a boy from the street paid to deliver the message?”

“How did he look?”

“Well, none of his clothes seemed to fit properly, either much too big or short. It was funny though, sir, some of his clothes were obviously once fine, his jacket was tailored but not for him and he was wearing a stained silk tie,”

“Theft?”

“I don’t think so, it was all well cared for and had obviously been washed and mended. He wasn’t from around here, milord, his accent was so northern,”

Harrington frowned but turned his eyes back to his paper, staring at it but not taking a word in.

“Hmn, I wonder how they knew my connection with the Howells,” he muttered, “It’s been many years since I last saw any of them… If he comes calling again, do tell me and I’ll speak to him, see what he’s really about,”

The waiter nodded his head.

“As you wish, m’lord,”


	13. Chapter 13

“YOU STUPID BOY!”

Dan closed his eyes tight and curled up into himself on the floor, his body shaking and his mouth filled with the taste of bile. He was knelt on the floor of the entrance hall surrounded by shards of chinaware, the eyes of half of the boys in the school fixed solely on his trembling form and Mrs Barrymore and Mr Drew both towering over him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I just- I just-“

“-That’s an  _entire_ tea set! It was Wedgewood!” Mr Drew bellowed, his shouting drawing the attention of even more of the boys who came clattering down the stairs, eager to see what was going on, “You are  _asking_ for it today!”

Dan’s head was spinning as he tried to scramble back, his hands pressing into the shards and cutting painfully. He wanted to be sick, he couldn’t face what he was certain was going to come. Drew raised one hand and struck him hard across the face with the back of his hand, rage filling him as he pulled the poor boy to his feet by his hair. Dan was unable to stop the pained tears springing to his eyes and he did nothing to stop them falling down his face, he was too shocked even to cry out when the man began to shake him roughly like a rag doll.

“I didn’t mean to!” he protested weakly, but Drew didn’t listen.

“I’ve had it with you boy, you’re more of a burden than help! Why I ever thought it would be a good idea to keep you, I’ve a good mind to throw you out!”

There was a collective murmur around the boys who were watching on, some of them revelling in the prospect of the scandal that would follow a lord being cast out destitute, and others gasping in worry for their ex-classmate.

“No sir! I’ll do better I promise!” Dan was crying uncontrollably and fully aware of how pitiful he looked, he was just beyond caring, “Please-please don’t send me away! I’ve nowhere to go!”

Drew let go of him forcefully, Dan stumbling back, and turned to have a conversation with Mrs Barrymore who was reminding him how seriously damaged the school’s reputation would be if he really did send Dan away. The boy in question was standing there, his knees feeling as though they’d give way any second and his head spinning. He pulled his watch out again and held it in front of him, focusing on counting the ticking heartbeat rather than the imminent threat of becoming a beggar. He was aware of shouting and he was sure he’d been shaken but everything was too hazy for him to be certain.

SLAP!

His head was flung to one side and everything exploded in pain.

“Hand me that pocket watch right now!” Barrymore screeched, her steely grey eyes flashing, “I’m confiscating it until you learn to behave,”

“No!”

It was as though time had stopped. There was a gasp from the ever growing audience on the stairs and leaning on the banister, Ganz had lost his self-satisfied smirk and looked decidedly ill and both Mrs Barrymore and Mr Drew had gone puce, their family resemblance becoming more apparent.

“I  _beg_ your pardon?” Drew’s voice was terrifyingly quiet and calm, Dan knew he was going to get it.

“I said no,” some of the boys gawped at him and even Ganz was shaking his head urgently, “This is my Papa’s pocket watch, I’m- I’m keeping it with me,”

Before Dan had the chance to say another word, Mrs Barrymore’s claw like hands had dived forwards and snatched the watch from his fingers, Dan let out a loud cry and pounced on her, trying desperately to get it back. She screamed in horror and threw the watch across the room in her shock. Dan followed it with his eyes, fear filling him when it hit the ground with a ‘chink’ of metal on the hard stone.

He scrambled to it, falling to his knees and scanning over it to check for damage, he was starting to feel relieved until he popped it open.

The glass covering the clock face was smashed and it ceased to tick.

He couldn’t breathe, it felt as though the air around him was pressing down on him, his stomach lurched and-

-he threw up all over the floor, coughing and spluttering with tears rolling down his face. He curled up into a tight ball and continued to sob, clutching the broken watch to his chest.

“What’s happened?” Phil near yelled as he pushed through the crowd of boys who were simply stood there in a stunned silence, “Dan? Dan, what’s happened?”

There were some things in the world that simply broke Phil’s heart to see. Thin children dressed in rags and barefooted scampering through the streets and stealing just to get enough to eat, desperate young girls selling themselves for money on street corners to bankers who had wives waiting for them at home, ancient horses pulling too heavy cars and being whipped when they couldn’t plod along as fast as they could years ago.

Daniel Howell on his knees sobbing, heartbroken and begging for forgiveness apparently was also one of them.

Just as Phil began to rush over Mr Drew grabbed him by the back of his coat and stopped him from going any further.

“What have you done to him?” Phil demanded, twisting out of the man’s tight grip, “He’s been sick! Why is he still sat on the floor? He should be in bed-“

“-He attacked my sister! He broke my property!”

Phil looked to the tea set on the floor and winced, the blue and white shards that scattered the floor had been the set brought out only for important guests, he had spent many an hour washing them carefully. But somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to care, something inside of him had snapped at the sight of Dan cowering on the floor like a kicked puppy and he was filled more with concern about  _him_ than a broken tea service. He looked up into Drew’s round and ruddy face and shrugged his shoulders, glorying in the look of rage he received for his insolence.

“He’s a lord, I’m sure he’s got hundreds of tea sets like this in his manor, when he comes of age I bet he’ll give you another set to replace it. What does it really matter?”

Phil didn’t know why he was saying things he just knew would antagonise the man, he was just too angry and tired to care anymore. He gazed across at Dan who was still shivering on the floor and felt a rage build up inside of him. Between them they’d broken him, he was a scared little boy and they’d broken him.

“HE’S JUST A SKIVVY! He’s no lord yet and if I have my way he  _never_  will be! I’ll wring his neck!”

At that Nickels began to cry from the stairs and Ganz looked as though he was about to throw up. The rest of the boys looked at one another and their quiet chattering stopped instantly, the hall becoming deathly silent.

“He’s a lord and you know it! And even if he wasn’t he’s  _still_  a human being! He doesn’t deserve to be treated like this!” Phil backed away from the man and stood in front of Dan, blocking him protectively, “You disgust me!”

Drew charged forwards, his hand raised and his eyes shining with fury. Mrs Barrymore cried for him to stop but he didn’t, his focus entirely on the two boys. Before Phil had time to think about what he was doing he threw himself on top of Dan, shielding him without a thought for his own safety. To Phil’s (and the students’ watching) surprise he didn’t find himself being thumped. Drew simply grabbed a hold of both him and Dan by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them to their feet, shaking them as he dragged them away.

The pupils parted like the red sea, all of them too terrified to do anything but watch as the two boys were pulled along. Drew pushed Phil in front of him and ordered him to walk but grabbed Dan by the arm and twisted it maliciously, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction when the boy burst into a fresh wave of tears.

“Walter!” Mrs Barrymore called after him, her voice filled with panic, “Walter, what are you going to do?”

Drew turned on his heel, his expression thunderous.

“I’m going to lock them in their room until I decide! But know this, they will  _not_ be living here after today!”

Phil felt an overwhelming sense of despair smother him and he couldn’t find it in him to do anything but follow orders. He was done for.

Up the stairs to the attic they went, Dan too scared to struggle and Phil having lost all will to fight back. They passed Dina on the second landing and she took one look at the pair of them before covering her hand with her mouth.

“Phil, Dan… What’s happened sir?”

Drew turned to her and snarled, startling her enough to make her jump.

“They’re getting sent away, that’s what! Now off with you, I don’t want you loitering around!”

She bit her lip and gave both boys a look of such sadness it made Dan’s heart ache and gave a short bob, hurrying down to the kitchen without another word.

Drew continued to push them onwards and when they finally reached their bedroom door it was flung open and the pair of them were forced in, Dan’s heart dropping when he heard the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock.

When the thudding footsteps eventually died away they were left standing there in silence trying to comprehend their situation. Without a word Phil sunk to his knees on the hard wooden floor and stared into nothingness, his breathing shallow and his hands forming fists in his hair.

“We’re going to the workhouse,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion and his eyes dead, “We’re going to the fucking workhouse I just know it,”

“We can’t! We can’t Phil!” Dan sobbed, falling down in front of Phil and taking his hand, “You said- You said you wouldn’t ever go! You said you’d rather die than go there!”

Phil looked up and shook his head with a helpless and bitter smile, tears rolling down his pale, drawn face.

“I haven’t got a choice, have I?” he whispered, his voice cracking, “I haven’t anywhere to go, no family, not even a reference to get a job! I can’t do anythin’ about it Dan!”

He pulled his hand free and grabbed his hankie from his pocket and began to scrub away all evidence of him crying, but Dan had already seen and it scared him more than anything. Phil wasn’t one to cry, in fact, the only time Dan had ever seen it happen was when he was in too much pain to hold it in. Phil had given up and accepted his worst fear, it chilled Dan to the bone.

“He might not- he might not actually send us away,” Dan whispered hopefully, wiping his runny nose on the back of his sleeve, “He could just- He might just whip us again? God I hope he just does that! I never thought I’d pray for a licking, but my god…”

Phil snorted, completely devoid of humour.

“Are you fucking delirious?” he spat, his face contorting in a look of such disgust that he appeared ugly, “Christ Dan! If he  _does_  get the belt it in’t gunna be instead of chucking us out!”

Dan couldn’t breathe properly and he had shooting pains in his head, he didn’t know what to do with himself so he pushed himself to his feet and paced back and forth. Phil never swore,  _never_ , and he’d given up, what hope had they if the ever optimistic Phil had given up? Eventually Dan screamed in frustration and kicked Phil’s bed as hard as he possibly could, the old metal frame creaking, and he fell to the floor and began to cry again, exhausted and scared. Just then his foot brushed against something under the bed and it fell on its side and rolled out, the chink of glass and coins loud in the otherwise silent room. Dan stared at the jar for a while before looking at the door.

“The lock… Can you pick it?” he asked tentatively.

“No? I’m a servant not a locksmith,” Phil raised one eyebrow, he looked exhausted, “Why would you think I could pick it?”

“Well, you’re an orphan and you’ve nicked things from peoples’ rooms before,” Dan muttered, “I thought it was some secret hidden talent you had or something,”

Phil sniggered slightly manically and rolled his eyes.

“There isn’t some class all orphans go to learn how to be one of Fagin’s boys! I think somebody’s read too many adventure novels,” he began to laugh in a deranged manner as he pulled at his hair, making it stick up at all angles, “We’re fucked! We’re completely fucked and you’ve gone mental! Forget the workhouse, they’ll be sendin’ you to flamin’ Bedlam!”

Dan felt his heart begin to ache in his chest so much it hurt to breathe, seeing the ever strong and reliable Phil broken in such a way was too much. The thing that Phil had dreaded for years was about to come true and there was nothing Dan could do about it but try his hardest to help him get out of it, and he was failing.

“Phil,” he whispered desperately, his voice hoarse from crying, “If we can’t pick it… How- how strong would you say that door is?”

Phil looked up at him and shrugged, his whole body loose and slumped as if it had given up on everything.

“Pretty strong, the lock’s fairly weak if that’s what you’re asking,” Phil shook his head, defeated, “We don’t have anywhere to go though Dan, even if we did get out,”

“We do though! If we go to Harrington he might help us!”

Phil looked at Dan sadly, he was grasping at straws but at least he still had hope. He looked down at his best clothes he’d put on in the hope of trying to visit Harrington again and suddenly felt a fool, he was about to say as much but the look of pure desperation in the other boy’s eyes was enough to make him fall quiet.

“Why would you think that? He’s some lord you’ve never met, he might not give two shits about you! Face it Dan, we’re going to spend the rest of our miserable lives inside a hell hole-“

Dan shot across the room and in a fit of anger struck Phil as hard as he could across the face, the slap vibrating in the otherwise silent room.

“SHUT UP! SHUT. UP!” he screamed, his face flush and his hand smarting from the pain of the slap, “Don’t you DARE give up now! While there’s still even the slightest possibility, we have to try! I thought you wanted more! What happened to travelling the world? What about France, eh, Fraises Boy? What happened to becoming a butler? What about your stupid hypothetical dog? WHAT HAPPENED TO SPENDING THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH ME?”

Dan sunk to his knees in front of the other boy and sobbed, gazing at his shocked expression and the angry handprint emblazoned across his face. He grabbed a hold of him by the shirt and began to shake him weakly, his whole body shuddering from silent sobs.

“Phil…  _Phil_! Please don’t let me down now,  _please_! I can’t- I can’t do this without you! I  _need_ you to- I need you Phil! Please!”

Phil sat there and stared at Dan’s colossal meltdown with a sense of both shock and admiration, he hadn’t known the trembling and meek boy had such a temper in him, to see him have a tantrum of this scale was quite impressive.

“Spoilt little prince,” he whispered under his breath, watching Dan become uglier and uglier with each fat tear and wipe of his running nose on his already grotty sleeve.

This was Dan breaking in an entirely different way than what he was used to, usually Dan’s meltdowns consisted of staring off into space looking depressed, a few tears and being slightly more snappy than usual. Dan was prone to being paranoid and making everything about him, usually Phil would be sympathetic and allow him his moments of self-indulgent wallowing, but this was different.

It was Phil’s worst fear that was being realised, not Dan’s, it was Phil who was being punished for doing nothing wrong, not Dan, and it was Phil who had every right to be crumbling the way he was, not Dan. It made Phil angry, unbelievably so, but it also gave him a bit of perspective. He’d been Dan’s prop through all his struggles and now he was abandoning him, he supposed the boy did have some cause for panic. Phil had cared for him all the time Dan had known him, he still made sure Dan had the thicker blankets for goodness sake! Through all of Dan’s hardships Phil had been supportive but now it was all melting away and the boy obviously couldn’t cope with it.

“Phil, Phil  _please_ ,” Dan whispered at long last, his breathing having gotten so erratic he was hiccupping, “I’m begging you, please just  _try_ ,”

Phil took one last hard look at the crying little lord he’d cared for and cherished and eventually made up his mind. Whenever Dan still believed there was a possibility, he’d fight to help him. If he didn’t try he’d end up at the poorhouse and if he tried and failed it’d be the same outcome, but at least he could live with the knowledge that he’d  _tried_.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

_‘Come on Lester! You can’t let him down now! You’re supposed to be looking after him, man up!’_

He sat there a moment more before he sprung to his feet and grabbed a hold of his satchel from the floor by the bed and started to dash around the room, grabbing Dan’s family photo from the desk and the little bible filled with pressed flowers, he shoved them in the bag with the jar of coins and buckled it shut. He pulled on his outside coat and cap and pulled Dan to his feet.

“Get your coat on, Daniel, it’s cold outside and we don’t know how long we’re going to be out there,”

Dan looked at him with such hope it filled him with a new burst of determinedness.

“So you mean we’ll try?”

Phil nodded and helped Dan on with his coat and buttoned it up for him without thinking.

“Well, first we’ve got to kick the door in, we won’t be going anywhere if we can’t get out,” Phil tested his strength against it a few times before turning to Dan, “I know you’re achy but you’ve got to help me with this,”

Dan eagerly nodded and the two of them braced themselves before running full pelt at the door, something they both realised was a stupid idea when they rebounded off the hard wood and hit the floor with a thud. Phil got to his feet and began to kick at the lock with all his might but it still wouldn’t budge, he screamed in frustration and began to hit it as hard as he possibly could with his fists, bruising them and not stopping even when Dan begged.

They heard the heavy thud of footsteps charging up the stairs towards them and Phil grabbed a hold of Dan’s hand and held it tight.

“When Drew walks in we’ll push straight past him and run,” he said, squeezing Dan’s hand reassuringly even though his own fingers cried in protest, “Don’t stop, just keep running,”

* * *

 

Dina dashed into the kitchen and ran over to Joshua, who was enjoying a cigarette and a ten minute break, and threw herself to the chair beside him, her face contorted with grief.

“It’s all kicked off now!” She wailed, drying her puffy eyes on the corner of her apron and clinging to the man’s arm desperately, “Phil- Oh Phil’s gone and done it!”

“Gone an’ done what? What’s happened Dina?”

The maid hung her head and wept bitterly, her hair falling from its bun and covering her face.

“I don’t know! I jus’ know that Mr Drew’s gone an’ dragged the pair of ‘em upstairs and said he’s sendin’ them away! Oh Josh! I know I said I didn’ like either of them but they don’t deserve that! Lord knows where he’ll send ‘em!”

Cook gave a cruel laugh and threw down her rolling pin on the sideboard, the loud clatter making both of them start as they’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Good riddance I say!” she spat, her ruddy face showing no signs of sympathy, “It’ll serve the both of them right, one too proud and big for his boots and the other a spoilt little prince!”

Joshua glowered at her as he continued to comfort the sobbing and guilt ridden Dina.

“How can yer gloat like that? Imagine if it were you bein’ sent away! Poor little mites,”

Josh’s fair words had little effect on the older woman who continued to rant and grumble about the burden the pair of them had been while Dina continued to cry into her hands. It was then they heard the first of the thuds.

“Joshua?” Dina whispered, glancing over to Cook who seemed not to have noticed, “What was that?”

Another thud.

“I think the two idiots are tryin’ to knock the door down,” he hissed back.

At the third thud Cook looked up and narrowed her eyes, it was then Joshua got to his feet and hurriedly walked across the kitchen.

“I’m off to clear up whatever damage they’ve done,” he said, hovering anxiously for a moment by the door and praying the two would stop whatever they were doing, “I’ll try have a word with the master, little use by the sounds of it but I might as well try,”

“No point,” Cook said, but it was too late, Josh had already sprinted off.

She huffed and shook her head.

“Always knew Phil’d turn out bad,” she said dramatically as she began to roll out more pastry, “Oh how I miss the days that boy would do as I said, all I had to do was threaten him with no dinner and he’d be ‘yes ma’am’ing and working twice as hard, nowadays he’s so busy dreaming after his lordship he don’t do nothin’”

Dina wiped her eyes and glowered, the words Phil had said to her the other day coming to mind.

“You shouldn’t be like that with him, he works as hard as he can considerin’ he’s half starved! Daniel too for tha’ matter! You can’t fault the pair of ‘em for tryin’,”

The older woman looked up sharply, not used to anybody but Joshua ever daring to disagree with her.

“Now don’t you take that tone with me!” she hissed, throwing down her rolling pin once more, “I can tell you’ve been spendin’ time with the pair of ‘em, don’ let either of them brats wear off on you!”

Usually when Dina had been told to be quiet she’d begrudgingly do as she was told, but today was very different. She’d honestly thought little more of Dan than a bit of a burden that she’d pitied and she’d never gotten on well with Phil, but she’d respected him in her own way and she wasn’t going to lie down and let somebody insult the two of them when they were already in enough trouble and not even there to defend themselves.

“Wear off on me? I have my own mind you know! I don’t like how you’re speakin’ about them so I’m tellin’ you,”

Cook’s face was slowly turning more and more puce by the second and Dina knew that any moment she’d blow a gasket.

“Hold your tongue!” she said, her voice shaking in her rage, “If you were either one of them I’d ‘ave the mind to slap you for that!”

“You don’t scare me!” Dina snapped, her voice steely, “You may be able to boss those two around, but you aint gunna be like that with me!”

Cook blanched.

“How dare you?”

“How dare  _I_?” Dina laughed shortly, bunching up her apron in her fists, “How dare  _I_? How dare _you_? You’ve been cruel to Phil from the moment he came ‘ere! You’re lucky he’s strong enough to hold ‘is temper because he aint a scared little boy anymore! And Dan, I knew as soon as he stood in that doorway you were gunna tear the poor thing apart! It was like watching you with Phil all over again, another timid little thing for you to bully an’ starve! Well you aint going to be like that with me! You slap me I’ll slap you right back!”

It was at that moment the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Barrymore staggered in, her eyes wild.

“You’ll do no such thing Dina!” she said, her words slurring, “Now get out of my sight, my head’s pounding and I need some peace and quiet without you shrieking,”

Dina had to control her breathing and keep her anger in check as she bobbed an aggressive curtsy and stormed out of the room, shutting the door slightly too hard behind her and hearing a satisfying ‘slam’.

Barrymore slumped down at the table and groaned.

“Fetch me some brandy won’t you Margery? I need it for my nerves,”

* * *

 

The boys stood there ready to pounce, their hearts hammering in their chests with a combination of fear and determination. It was now or never. There was a thump and a clatter at the door then the sound of a key unlocking. Dan held his breath, ready to pounce.

The door swung open and both boys prepared themselves to dash, but the sight that met them was nothing like they’d expected. Once again it was Joshua at the door, though this time he came bearing a skeleton key rather than food.

They stared at him in shock, scarcely breathing.

“Josh?” Phil whispered.

Joshua looked down at the two startled boys and ran his shaking hand through his hair.

“You’ve really done it this time boys,” he said, his expression grave and his accent stronger in his worry, “Dina’s just come a runnin’ down and told us all about it an’ Mrs Barrymore’s in a dreadful state! You’ve got to get away b’fore Mr Drew drags you off to the workhouse ‘im self!”

Phil hugged the footman tight, inhaling the scent of his familiar cheap tobacco and trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.

“Thank you Josh! Won’t you be in trouble if Sir finds out you helped us?”

Joshua laughed and gave him one last ruffle of his hair, sadly smiling down at him.

“Don’t you be worrying about that now! Have you anywhere you can go?”

Dan nodded and took Phil’s hand.

“We’re heading off to Whitechapel-“

“-Why do’you want to go there?! Are you mad?”

“We’re going to try and get a hold of one of Dan’s relatives,” Phil explained, “He goes to a gentleman’s club there… dunno if they’ll let us in, mind,”

Josh looked down at Phil’s clothes and raised his eyebrow.

“’s that why you’re in your best get up?” he questioned.

Phil flushed embarrassedly and nodded.

“I’d planned to sneak off and try asking there again today,” he explained with a frown, “But then all of this kicked off and I didn’t get the chance. Better now than never though, eh?”

Just as Joshua was about to ask further questions they heard a high pitched flurry of shouting from downstairs followed by lots of yelling. He pulled them both gently from the attic and ushered them down the stairs.

“Quickly! Go! If you need anythin’ come back here and I’ll see what I can do for you!”

“Thanks Josh!” Dan called, but Phil had already yanked him down the stairs.

Down they ran as quickly as they could, Dan stumbling and almost falling headfirst a few times. They only had two options, the front door or the kitchen, and in a split second decision Phil dragged them through to the kitchen. That turned out to be the worst mistake he could have made.

At the table sat Mrs Barrymore nursing a brandy complaining bitterly to Cook who was listening on in sympathy. As soon as Cook caught sight of them she screamed and dropped her rolling pin making Barrymore get to her feet and turn to them, her face reddening.

“How did you get out?” she screeched, “If I find out you broke down that door I’ll be getting the police!”

Phil didn’t say another word to her and tried to push past but she’d grabbed Dan’s hair and yanked him back.

“Don’t you  _dare_!”

Dan sobbed in pain as he tried to pull free but she had too tight a hold on him and it hurt too much. He wriggled and tried to slap her hands away but she wasn’t having any of it and dug her nails into his scalp making him certain she’d drawn blood.

“Get off him!” Phil yelled, diving at her and pulling at her hands frantically, “You’re hurting him!”

“He can’t leave!  _You’re_ welcome to piss off, but  _he_  can’t!” she raised the other hand and slapped Phil away in a panic, “Do you know how badly this would reflect on us? A lord and former pupil thrown into the streets?”

Dan didn’t know where it had come from, but the combination of despair and utter rage built up inside of him until he couldn’t hold it any more.

“I don’t care you evil old witch!” he screamed in a passion, “You’re as deep in scandal as I am! You’re no widow!”

She froze, her face draining of colour.

“Par-pardon?”

“You heard me!” Dan sobbed, using her moment of distraction to get away, he wriggled from beneath her and stumbled over to Phil, “You’re husband didn’t die! He left you because you’re a terrible person!”

Phil grabbed a hold of Dan’s hand tightly and the pair of them slowly backed away towards the door, their eyes never leaving the broken woman who was staggering towards them.

“YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD SPEAK OF IT TO NO ONE! YOU  _PROMISED_!” she half screamed, half choked as tears streamed down her sharp face.

“That was before you hurt Dan,” he said coldly, his eyes flashing, “That was before you threatened to send me away,”

“I’ll have you whipped!” she cried desperately, “The pair of you!”

Phil laughed cruelly, ignoring Dan’s worried squeak.

“I’d like to see you try you old crone,”

Phil supposed it must have been quite a shock for her. She was used to plain old Phil, the slightly bumbling servant with an occasionally feisty temper but overall a meek and obedient boy who was very much used to doing as he was told. Only when he drew himself up to his full height and gave her a look of such intense hatred did she realise he was no longer the gangly, cowed little boy she’d abused for all those years, he was a tall young man with a mind of his own. Even worse, now he had somebody to protect other than himself and it just so happened to be somebody she’d just flung to the floor and threatened to whip.

“I- I-“ she began, “I’ll- I’ll-“

“-You’ll do nothing. Unless you want us to tell the world all about what really happened, of course,”

She let out a sob and dropped down to the nearest chair, her thin body quivering. Cook bustled over to her and tried to make her drink some of the brandy but the matron was too distraught to listen.

Dan tugged at Phil’s hand and nodded at the door, Phil sighed. The pair took one last look at the kitchen they’d spent so long slaving in and turned away before anybody had the chance to stop them.

Then they just ran.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, an epic length epilogue of sorts will be up either Saturday or Wednesday depending on how fast I can type it up because collage started again and I’m all stressed out! Thanks!

Dan didn’t think he’d truly known fear until then. Running full pelt down the streets he’d gotten to know so well over the past few months, slipping in the melting snow and clinging to Phil’s hand for guidance, he realised he’d been thrown into a world he didn’t want a part of. He’d just done the stupidest thing possible and had ended up getting himself and Phil flung (quite literally) into the streets with nowhere to go other than to a man he’d never met. The thought of getting locked up for property damage was just as terrifying to him as the prospect of the workhouse, he’d rather die on the streets than suffer that.

His back pulled painfully as he ran, the raised welts from the week before rubbing against his coarse clothing, but he was too scared to stop. Every so often he’d look hastily over his shoulder to see if they were being chased but whenever Phil spotted him doing that he’d yank him and start to run faster, his beaten up satchel hitting against his side.

“We can’t afford to stop Dan! We’ve got to get there before he leaves, lord knows when the place closes!”

So on they ran down miles and miles of back to back houses, a sea of brown and red, Phil’s grip on his hand so tight his knuckles were white. There were shouts for them to stop as they bumped into people without a care, even a policeman called after them, but they didn’t falter. Only when the stitch in Dan’s stomach was too great and he was wheezing for breath did Phil slow the pace, but even then he still made them keep up a brisk walk.

Eventually they reached the tall, grand building Phil had visited the other day and they stopped in their tracks, staring up at it with wide eyes. Dan’s hold on Phil’s hand tightened slightly and he could feel a panic attack coming along, with his breathing already so irregular from the running it felt almost inevitable but Phil quickly saw the signs and started to soothe him, taking both his hands and helping him slow his breathing.

“We must look a sight,” Dan gasped eventually, “You in your Sunday best and me looking like a common beggar while I have a bloody meltdown,”

Phil smiled gently, the shaky humour reassuring him that Dan was fundamentally okay despite his current panic.

“Are you alright to go in?” he asked, glancing over to the intimidating door, “I can go alone if you want?”

“No! No, I have to do this,”

Phil looked him up and down once more and when he’d managed to reassure himself that Dan wasn’t going to keel over, he nodded.

Despite Dan’s wheezing, the two solemnly started to climb the stone steps and halted at the doors taking a deep breath. The doorman glowered down at them impassively and shook his head before Phil had even said a word.

“My colleague told you this the other day,” he snapped at the older boy, “You can’t come in without an appointment,”

Dan gripped his pocket watch in one hand and Phil’s clammy hand in the other, the crippling nerves washing over him and making his head spin. He opened his mouth to try and say something but he couldn’t force the words out.

“But sir! I have- I have to see-“ Dan began, but Phil had darted past him and tried to push through the door, evidently having had enough of waiting.

Before he’d even had chance to properly enter the threshold the doorman grabbed a hold of him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back, shaking him aggressively. Phil bristled like an angry cat and tried to pull away but the man was too strong and he simply ended up choking himself a little.

“That’s it!” the doorman shouted, his face reddening and his breath curling in the air from the cold, “If I see the two of you ‘round here again I’ll call for the police! Now go!”

“But-“ Dan tried.

“-But nothing! Now away with you!”

Phil glowered at the man and looked as though he were going to argue but his shoulders sagged and he pulled Dan back down the stairs, pacing back and forth on the wet cobbles, deep in thought. Dan sunk down on the damp stone steps and stared forwards, his eyes focused on the ground.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered, his voice thick as more tears threatened to spill, “If you hadn’t have tried to barge in there I might’ve gotten him to listen,”

Phil didn’t pause in his pacing and simply shook his head.

“He in’t going to listen, his mate didn’t last week, why would today be any different? We’ll just have to think of another way in, it’ll be fine Dan,”

The young lord gaped up at him in horror, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes welling up.

“It  _won’t_ be fine! How will it ever be fine?” he shrieked, grabbing his watch from his pocket and sobbing a little at the lack of ticking, “He’ll never let us in! We’ll freeze to death out here before he lets us in! Just face it Phil, we’re going to die on the streets, we’ll starve out here!”

“We aren’t going to die, Bear,” Phil whispered, sitting down beside him and pulling him close, tangling his hands in the younger boy’s hair, “We… We’ll just have to go back,”

“ _Back_?” Dan choked into his shoulder, his whole body shuddering, “We can’t go back! We can’t Phil! Never! They’ll send us- They’ll send us  _there_! I can’t! I can’t!”

Phil felt himself begin to lose hope again, it was all too much, none of this was  _fair_.

_‘But when is anything fair?’_

He pulled Dan closer to his chest and buried his face in his brown messy hair, crying along with him in a hopelessness he’d not felt for many years. Everything was lost, they had nowhere to go, no possessions but the clothes on their backs and a jam jar full of coins that wouldn’t sustain them for more than a few weeks or so, they were doomed. But even worse than that, Phil had failed Dan. He was older and stronger, he should have been able to look after him, it was his duty and he’d  _promised,_ but he’d failed.

A discreet cough pulled him from his miserable thoughts and he looked up to see a pair of perfectly shined shoes.  Raising his head even higher and wiping the tears hastily from his eyes he saw an outstretched palm with a few coins in it and he couldn’t help but laugh mirthlessly as he accepted them while Dan tried his hardest to refuse.

“Thank you kindly, sir,” Phil hiccupped, still unable to stop his crying, “Say thanks Dan, beggars can’t be choosers, eh?”

Dan looked into Phil’s dead eyes and began to cry all over again, not caring that his bawling was attracting even more attention from passers-by. The man looked shocked for a moment before he looked a little closer at Phil with recognition. 

“You’re the boy who came the other day,” he said accusatorily, “The one demanding to see Lord Harrington!”

As soon as Phil got a good look at the man’s face he instantly recognised him, stood before him was the doorman from the other week. He patted Dan on the back and got to his feet, a hesitant hope building in his chest.

“Yes sir, we really need to speak with him. You’re friend up there wouldn’t let us in,” he looked down at Dan who was oblivious and still crying into his knees, “Believe it or not sir, but this is important! Lord Harrington might be able to help,”

“And how would he do that?” the man asked, his eyes scanning over Phil’s strange appearance and darting over to the crying boy on the steps.

“Lord Harrington had a nephew, right?” Phil pressed earnestly, “He was called Lord Howell and he died a few years back-“

“-Then how is it that a dead man sent you with a message?” The doorman snapped, growing more impatient by the minute, “You’re wasting my time boy! Now, if you don’t remove yourself from these steps I’ll have a policeman come move you along,”

“No sir! You see, Lord Howell had a son and that boy is an orphan now and he doesn’t have anywhere to go and he can’t get his inheritance until he’s eighteen, Lord Harrington is his only remaining relative!”

Phil wanted to scream in frustration when the man still looked at him with scepticism, in a last ditch attempt at convincing him he snatched the broken pocket watch from Dan’s shaking hands and thrust it at him, showing the Howell crest and looping initials on the back.

“This watch was given to Dan when his Da died!” he cried, “That’s the new Lord Howell on the steps! His Ma and Da are dead and he doesn’t have anywhere to go, have a heart sir and at least let him  _see_ Lord Harrington. Let’s let  _him_  decide if I’m telling the truth,”

The doorman stood looking at Phil in shock for a few moments, taking in this brash cocksure boy, and seemed to make his mind up. He gave a curt nod and began to walk up the stairs, turning to see Phil’s demeanour change entirely when he bent to help the shaking little Lord Howell to his feet and give him a quick reassuring hug. He shook his head in wonder and ushered the two of them in, whispering a quick word to the man currently at the front desk. The place was so grand that Phil instantly snatched his battered flat cap from his head and flattened his hair, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Dan was terrified and he clung to Phil like a child with his mother. It had been so long since he’d been somewhere so grand and he didn’t know how to react, he used to fit into places like this so seamlessly but now he stuck out like a sore thumb, they were worlds apart. He looked up at Phil whose jaw was clenched and face pale with all traces of tears wiped away, he looked both strong and fragile. Phil noticed Dan gaze and gave him a quick tight smile.

“It’ll be okay now Dan, I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, sounding a lot more sure of himself than he looked, “As soon as we explain everything I know he’ll help you,”

Dan wasn’t too convinced but nodded anyway, squeezing Phil’s clammy hand and not letting go.

“Come along you two! Through here,”

They quickly scurried after the man and followed him through the thick oak door into a room even grander than the entrance hall they’d just left. It was bright and airy, marble floors and white walls with huge potted plants spreading their green leaves towards the high arched windows, there were comfy sofas and settees and tables covered with chess boards and teacups and books everywhere. The men sat in the room varied in age and appearance but they all had one thing in common, their eyes were fixed solely on the two grubby boys stumbling their way across to them.

“I say!” one of them called, getting to his feet and stopping in front of the doorman, “What do you think you are doing? Isn’t it your job to make sure beggars can’t get in?”

“Sorry sir, but these two have an appointment with Lord Harrington,” the man explained, “As soon as they’re done they’ll leave,”

The man looked as though he was going to kick up a fuss but Phil pushed straight past him without a care and lead Dan on, the doorman unhappily following after. They reached the end of the room quite suddenly and Phil floundered as to where to go but the man steered him in the direction of a smaller meeting room off the corner and told them to wait.

While Phil was reluctant to sit, he forced Dan into one of the plush armchairs by the fire and stood in front of him, straightening out his clothing for him and dabbing at his face with his last clean handkerchief.

“Why are you fussing over me?” Dan grumbled, calmed down enough to be mildly irritated, “I’m really not in the mood right now, I feel as though I’ll be sick,”

“Well don’t be, you aren’t allowed. You have to make a good first impression, don’t you? If he doesn’t like you he might not believe you… sir,”

Dan’s head shot up and he looked at Phil with such uncertainty it unsettled him to see.

“You’ve not called me that for months, nearly a year even,” he said soberly, taking the older boy’s hand to stop him flattening his curls, “Why now?”

Phil grinned and ducked his head.

“’Cause if this all goes well you’re going to be aristocracy again,  _milord_ ,”

The younger boy rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed but Phil could see the sparkle returning to his eyes, he just hoped that this went smoothly and it wasn’t all for naught.

“Phil, I-“

Just then the door opened and the two boys swivelled around, Dan hopping to his feet and Phil straightening up. In the doorway stood an elderly man, his face lined and his eyes a deep, sad green. He regarded the two of them for a minute before his eyes fixed on Dan and his shoulders sagged with relief.

“You’re Matthew’s boy,” he said plainly, his voice gravelly, “I can tell just by looking at you. The last time I saw your father he was about your age, you bare a strong resemblance to him,”

Dan clung to Phil’s arm for support and he let out a shaky laugh.

“People… People usually say I look more like my mother, my lord,”

Harrington’s face broke into an exuberant smile and he limped across the room and threw his arms around the young boy’s neck.

“You sound just like him too!”

Phil watched on with a smile as the two sat down opposite one another and instantly began to talk, Harrington wanting to know everything from the beginning, Dan assumed that meant when his mother had died but it actually meant his childhood and Phil just knew he was going to be there a long time.

“Ah, you, boy,” the lord said eventually, noticing Phil hovering behind Dan’s chair like a ghost, “What’s your name?”

“He’s called Phil sir,” Dan answered for him, “He’s been looking after me,”

Phil smiled at that and ruffled his hair.

“Hardly!”

Harrington watched them both for a moment, a serene smile on his face, before remembering what it was he wanted.

“Will you go talk to one of the waiters? Ask them to bring some tea up, oh, and something to eat! You both look half starved,”

Dan frowned and started to protest but Phil was already bowing his head.

“Yes milord, I’ll be as fast as I can sirs,”

He left the room in a hurry, trying his hardest not to let Dan see his crushed expression.

* * *

 

The doubt Phil had buried deep inside from the moment he’d come up with his ‘reunite-the-Howells’ plan was slowly climbing its way to the surface and it was making him feel sick. He’d known this was a possibility since the beginning but he’d hoped with all his heart it wouldn’t come to pass, to be separated from Dan after all they’d been through would be unbearable, but if it meant Dan was safe… He couldn’t exactly blame Harrington either, he’d just been introduced to a long lost great nephew who looked exactly like a beloved family member, servant boys weren’t on the top of his list of priorities.

Phil also  _looked_  dreadful; his hair was a greasy mess, he had dark rings under his eyes, and he was littered with cuts and bruises. He looked down at his clothes that he’d picked out to impress and suddenly felt very stupid and naive, his version of Sunday best wasn’t exactly the neatest at the best of times, it looked even worse when it was covered with dust from his earlier tumble on the kitchen floor and splashed with dirt around his ankles from his frantic run.

He calmed himself down enough to give a waiter his orders and forced himself to give a bright smile as he slipped back in the little room, but it soon fell when he realised neither lord had noticed him come in.

Phil stared at the two who were hugging and holding each other close, both babbling on about what would happen next and laughing brightly, but he wasn’t really listening. He should have known he’d be forgotten. This was no fairy story for him, an orphan who had no family nor a penny to his name, he now didn’t even have a job or a place to live and there was no chance _he’d_  turn out to be a lord! He tried to stop the tears welling up in his eyes but he couldn’t, so instead he focused on being as quiet as possible. Dan was going to be happy and safe now, right? Why was he so sad? He had no business being so upset, he had nothing to lose, so why was he crying?

He felt as though his legs could no longer support him so he quietly sat down on a footstool by the fire and tried to stop the tears from flowing but he just couldn’t. He screwed up his hanky in his fist and ducked his head and hid his face, trying to stay as silent and unobtrusive as possible. It was then Dan noticed him.

“Oh Phil,” Dan cried, looking over to his friend who was stifling his sobs into a dirty handkerchief, trying to make himself as small as possible, “Why are you so upset?”

Phil tried to stop himself, he really did, but he was so overwrought and tired that he couldn’t hold it in.

“I’m happy for you Dan, I really am! I just- where do I go now?” he sobbed, clinging so tightly to his own arms he was certain he’d drawn blood, “I can’t go back there, if Barrymore doesn’t kill me than Mr Drew will! Oh please sir!” he said, looking up to Harrington with wide, imploring eyes, “Please can I come work for you? I-I’m not meaning to be impertinent milord I swear it, I just- Could I come wait on Dan, sir? I- I wouldn’t ask for pay! I just-“

“Boy!” the old man said sharply, shocking Phil into silence and frightening Dan who looked up at his uncle in surprise, “What was your name again?”

“L-Lester sir,” Phil hiccupped, looking as though he’d just been struck, “Philip Lester,”

“Well then Philip, stop this nonsense at once!” he said kindly, seemingly realising how much his sharp tone had affected the two boys, “Daniel has been telling me all about the things you’ve been doing for him, I’d be foolish to not reward somebody who’d helped my family so I’ll see if we can sort something out,” 

Phil shook his head and tried to suppress his tears but he just couldn’t stop them, it was all going wrong.

“I don’t want a reward sir!” he said, out of breath and wiping at his eyes rather ineffectually, “I know I’m no young gentleman, please don’ think I’m getting ideas above my station ‘cause I’m not, I just- I just… I couldn’t bear leavin’ Dan after all that! I know I haven’t a reference, sir, but Dan can tell you how hard I work-“

“-I don’t doubt you work hard!” Harrington interrupted, quite alarmed at how hysterical the boy was growing, “But that won’t be necessary!”

Phil closed his eyes tight and fought to stop his shaking, he was probably going to be sent elsewhere just to appease Dan, he’d probably never see him again-

“-Oh please Uncle!” Dan begged, inching closer to his friend and clinging onto his shaking hand as if for dear life, “I’ll pay for his upkeep as soon as I come of age sir! Can’t he come work for me?“

Harrington watched Phil slowly compose himself, amazed at how quickly he could shift his expression and mannerisms and become the sensible ‘big brother’ in a matter of moments.

“Thank you milord,” he said to the older man, his voice almost steady but incredibly forced, the effect was quite ruined by the tears still dripping from his big blue eyes, “I’m thankful for whatever you do, just as long as Dan’s safe…” he turned to Dan and gave a watery smile, “It’s okay sir, you’re alright-“

“-Don’t call me that! Don’t call me sir!” Dan was angry, fuming even, “You can’t do that to me Phil! Don’t let the last time I see you be ruined because you’re too proud-“

“-The last time?” Harrington interrupted, confused and slightly offended, “Where do you think he’s going?”

“You’re- you’re sending him away, aren’t you sir?” Dan asked slowly, “If you do, please get him some new clothes-“

“-I don’t want clothes, Bear!” Phil laughed exasperatedly, “Look, we’ll write each other and maybe one day when you’re older we can meet,”

Dan had started crying again and now clung to Phil like a limpet, somehow he’d shifted from his chair to the floor by Phil’s knees and wrapped his arms around his waist, crying into his chest. Phil had to smile even though really he wanted to cry again too, in the time he’d known Dan every single one of the boy’s walls had been broken down until he was just a scared little boy. He tried to imagine Dan acting like this when they’d first met, when he was ever the prim and proper young gentleman he’d have  _died_  from embarrassment at the thought of making such a scene. Now though he was just Dan, Dan the terrified child who really didn’t want to be parted from his only friend.

While the two boys were kicking up a loud and hysterical fuss, the poor lord was left feeling rather put out and confused. He had no idea what was going on, something that should have been joyful was being spoilt by tears he couldn’t understand. Harrington was an old man and both his sight and hearing were failing him but he’d never thought his mind was until he saw how much of a fuss the two were making. He assumed he’d missed something, or forgotten something he’d said, but he couldn’t figure out quite what. He watched Phil comfort his long lost nephew, how gently he soothed him and wiped away tears even though ones of his own were still dripping down his face. Phil Lester was something special, even when he was breaking he still tried to stay strong for his best friend.

“Boys,” Harrington finally said, composed enough again to bring himself to speak, “I don’t quite understand what you’re so upset about, I don’t- Is Philip going somewhere?”

Phil frowned as he held onto Dan for reassurance, something wasn’t quite right.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, but you don’t want me workin’ for you so I don’t know where I’ll go… sir,”

Harrington began to realise what the confusion was and gave a short laugh in relief. Neither boy seemed happy with that, on the contrary, Dan had started to shake with anger, so he quickly shook his head.

“When I said I didn’t need you to work hard I didn’t mean I was going to send you away,” he explained gently, “Seeing you with Daniel I wouldn’t dream of it,”

“So you aren’t going to make him go?” Dan said tentatively, his eyes narrowed in distrust.

“No I’m not! I was going to suggest the two of you come live with me until we can sort things out, then Philip can decide whether he’d like to stay or if he’d like to move on,”

Phil was so used to being lied to and sent places without a say in the matter that he wasn’t sure he believed the man. All of his life he’d been constantly on edge, not trusting anybody to be truthful with him, it all seemed too good to be true.

“Do you mean it sir?” he said, slightly distrustfully, “You aren’t just saying it to please Dan?”

The old man nodded and held out his hand for Phil to shake it.

“I give you my word,”

Phil froze, his mind spinning. He sat there for a moment before beginning to laugh with relief, shaking the man’s hand with vigour. He began to cry again, clinging to Dan tightly and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. Dan’s head whipped up and he stared intensely into Phil’s big blue eyes.

“Phil you aren’t to go, you can come help me run the house or something, I don’t care, just don’t leave me!”

“I won’t,” he smiled, his head spinning and his heart light, “Oh Bear, I couldn’t ever!”

Dan let himself be hugged and felt a sense of calm and safety he’d thought he’d never have again. Though there were many things left to be sorted and things were far from being okay, he was no longer stuck in a place he feared and now he had somebody by his side that he loved and trusted.

It was though the past few years hardships were melting away. The pain he’d suffered from Johnson at home and the staff and owners of the school lessened a bit and it was as though suddenly he could  _breathe_  again. Phil was feeling much the same, but somehow it was more. He thought of the years he’d lived in poverty and fear, without a friend or family to comfort him, but now that had all changed.

Harrington watched them simply sit and hold each other close and didn’t say a word, simply taking in the relief that radiated from them with a sad smile on his face. He was going to do all he possibly could to find the people responsible for the suffering the boys had experienced and bring them to justice, but for now he was content to listen to their happy chatter.

* * *

 

As soon as they got back to the lord’s townhouse they were whisked up into his study, the kindly housekeeper (known as Mrs Battersea) rushing after them and asking whatever the matter was and the servants all gossiping to one another. Lord Harrington was known for being charitable, but never had he brought home urchins from the streets! Needless to say the boys were quite shell-shocked by the time they sat down in their chairs.

They spoke for many hours, Phil politely waiting for Dan to speak first but finding himself having to take over when the younger boy found it hard to put certain things into words.

“They just didn’t care more than anything. Sometimes we didn’t eat just because they’d forgotten to save us food or we’d been sent out to the shops or something and just missed it… And errands! I don’t think they ever sent us out when it was bad weather or really late or early on purpose, they just didn’t think about it, they just took the fact they had two boys who wouldn’t complain for granted,”

Phil looked down at his ruined boots and sighed, finding himself squirming a little under the lord’s pitying gaze. He’d never been one to take kindly to sympathy and he was struggling to be entirely truthful, his instinct being to sugar-coat.

“Same with clothes really, I mean, they gave me some when I first arrived because I just didn’t own any, but after that they just forgot. I got some from lost property and second-hand shops and I scraped along just fine, but the only time anybody noticed there was a problem was when I looked so bad they just couldn’t ignore it…”

Dan rolled his eyes and punched Phil lightly on the arm in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’re being too kind, nothing can excuse it really,” he said with a sad smile, “We near froze to death in that attic, the beds were awful and the window didn’t even shut!”

Phil’s head snapped up and he frowned deeply, folding his arms defensively.

“Dan, the only time anybody but one of us went up there was either to lock us in or when Josh’d come and sneak us food or somethin’. They had no way of knowing that the window needed mendin’ or that the beds were fallin’ apart, how could they?” he said, still trying to come up with any excuse.

Lord Harrington didn’t look too impressed with him as he raised one bushy white eyebrow.

“It sounds as though you’re being far too lenient, my boy,” he commented, “We’ll certainly talk more about it later on, but for now I think it would be more important for you to eat something! I’ll get something sent up for you,”

Phil got to his feet and was about to make his way to the door when Harrington stopped him.

“Whatever are you doing?” he asked, looking at the boy concernedly.

“Going to find a maid sir,” Phil said slowly, “Do you not want me to?”

“Heavens no! Sit down and let me call for someone! Goodness,”

Phil sat back down in his seat, his face flushed in embarrassment.

When the maid (who was unable to resist having a good look at them) brought in the tea and two bowls of porridge Dan couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose and stifle a gag. The porridge he’d eaten over the past months had been so thick you could turn the bowl upside down and nothing would fall out and without sugar it’d been hard to bring himself to eat it, the taste so bland and the texture so cloggy.  _This_  porridge was on a whole new level, it was creamy and had sugar in it and Dan thought he might explode with joy.

They ate greedily, neither of them having had anything since the night before and both of them ravenous. Though later on Dan would be mortified as he remembered how sloppy he’d been, at that moment he simply basked in the glow of having a full stomach for the first time since Christmas.

“You haven’t eaten very much either of you,” the lord said with a frown, “Would you like something else? I can order other food if you’d like?”

“Oh no sir! This is great!” Phil said hastily, “I think we’re both just full sir,”

Though Harrington was very concerned by that he didn’t say a word, instead letting them get on with it.

When the two of them finished the lord began to question them again, pushing to find out every single detail. Dan timidly telling him of his beloved Mary and how he wished he could find her, as soon as he was finished Harrington was already scribbling down a letter to the local paper asking them to put in an ad to tell her to contact them.

Soon enough they were guided off to a spare bedroom by the housekeeper who fussed over them terribly, she tried to put Phil in a different room but Dan began to cry pitifully so Phil made excuses to stay with him. He tried not to be infuriated by the sympathetic and understanding look the woman gave him but it was hard not to be, he was so used to being ridiculed he’d begun to start viewing everything with distrust.

As they curled up in the big, soft four-poster bed, Phil stared up at the canopy and smiled. He hugged Dan tightly to his chest and pecked him on the forehead, watching the boy snuggle into him as he slept. Without knowing quite why, Phil began to cry a little. He was in the softest, biggest bed he’d ever seen, he was warm, clean, his stomach was full and he had Dan curled by his side, he thanked every higher power he could think of.

He was going to live in a world full of splendours he hadn’t dare dream about, he was in bed full and warm and he was safe. But best and most important of all, he had Dan, he had someone closer than family who’d suffered and understood to an extent. He was filled with joy. That morning he’d been convinced he was going to starve to death on the streets and now he was safe and sound.

Things could only get better from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me! The final part/epilogue will be up very soon, it’s the longest part (10,000+) but it didn’t feel right to have it as a chapter, it’s very much a ‘what happened next’ sort of thing. I’m very proud of this little story and I’m so thankful so many people read it!  
> Thank you so much!


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The epic length ‘what happened next’ epilogue! Thank you all so much for reading this self-indulgent fic, I didn’t expect anybody to go past the first part so I am extremely grateful! I hope this lives up to expectations, I’m quite proud of it myself, even if it went on longer than I anticipated!

It didn’t all get better at once, there was a period of time where the two boys were quiet and meek, bowing and scraping and begging pardon for trivial things, as if they believed that the slightest infraction would have them thrown out. Only a few days after they’d arrived did Mary appear and as soon as she’d walked through the doors she was employed as Dan’s nursemaid again. Still, as much as he loved her, Dan wouldn’t let her get too close to him, he was too stuck in his own little world of grief and shock.

One day Phil was helping Dan remove his shirt before he bathed, having taken on the impromptu role as the younger boy’s manservant as Dan would allow nobody else near him. He’d just helped him into the bath when Mary walked in with a pile of towels and promptly let out a screech causing Dan to slip in his shock and bump his head a little on the tap.

“What’s the matter Mary?” Phil asked, rubbing Dan’s head for him as the poor boy sat there rather dazed, “You made us jump!”

“His back!” she gasped, her face pale, “Look at the state of his back!”

Phil had gotten so used to the sight of the fading bruises he’d almost forgotten they were there, seeing the woman’s reaction to the barely there yellow marks and grazes he was suddenly glad she hadn’t seen them both at their worst. He remembered the fuss she’d kicked up over Dan’s black eye and his own, almost permanent, fingertip shaped bruises up his wrists, and shook his head.

“It’s nearly healed up now, doesn’t hurt anymore either,” he said as he grabbed the jug of warm water and poured it over Dan’s head gently, washing his hair for him and being careful not to press too hard on the now bruised spot, “When he gets some weight on him he’ll be as good as new,”

“And how would you know it doesn’t hurt anymore?” she asked sharply, her eyes still fixed on Dan’s almost skeletal back, not seeming to notice or care about how embarrassed he was, “Does it hurt Bear?”

Dan straightened up a little and shook his head like a wet dog, smiling softly at Phil’s exaggerated gasp at getting splashed.

“He knows because he’s had worse and is in the same condition. I’m okay Mary, Phil’s looking after me,” he said quietly, still not turning to face her.

Later that day Mary took Phil to one side in the library, as Dan gently began to play scales on the piano almost absentmindedly, and gave him a tight hug.

“I’m sorry for bein’ sharp with you,” she whispered, making sure Dan couldn’t hear, “It’s just a shock seeing him like this, even when  _that man_ had a go at him he didn’t look half as frail as that,”

Phil nodded his understanding and held her hand, his eyes darting over to Dan. He missed the boy he’d spent the past year with, that Dan had been grumpy and sad, yes, but also full of life and hope, this Dan… well, this Dan was almost like a child, barely speaking to anybody apart from to apologise and he never said more than two words unless Phil was in his presence.

“It’s okay, he’s looking a lot better now believe it or not. He’s keeping his meals down again and he’s gained a bit of weight, he hasn’t flinched around Lord Harrington so badly for days now and he didn’t kick up a fuss when you came in the bathroom earlier. He’s on the mend,”

She gazed at him knowingly and hugged him tight, trying to squeeze all her love and gratitude into him all at once.

“How about you? Are  _you_  on the mend?”

He laughed shortly and nodded with a wry smile.

“I’m the best I’ve been in years, apart from worrying about Dan I don’t think I’ve ever felt better,”

“Thank you for worryin’ about him, he’s lucky to have you for a friend,”

Phil looked back over to Dan, who was still playing about half-heartedly, and nodded.

“Not as half as lucky as I am to have  _him_ ,”

* * *

 

For the next few months they focused mainly on getting better, Phil by working his hardest and trying to be helpful and Dan by not really speaking much and keeping himself to himself, though he calmed down a little when his pocket watch came back from the clockmaker’s and he had it back in his hands to reassure him.

At first Phil had been very concerned about Dan’s mental stability; the first few weeks after they’d been rescued he’d been quiet and withdrawn and flinched at the slightest movement or noise. He’d called the all maids ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ and the footmen ‘sir’ and it had taken him quite a while to readjust to his social status, and even then he was scolded for daring to make his own bed or fetch himself a glass of water.

It did amuse Phil a little how they treated  _him_  though, in their eyes he was still an urchin from the streets, albeit with nicer clothes. Feeling very uncomfortable being waited on hand and foot, Phil had begun to help with the household jobs the moment he’d arrived and there had been no complaints from anybody, Dan was the only one who saw a problem with it but he was too frightened to say anything and by the time he’d sorted himself out Phil had already been accepted on as an honorary member of staff rather than esteemed guest so it was too late to demand they change the way they were speaking to him. It suited Phil just fine, he didn’t know how Dan hadn’t gone half mad not being allowed to do anything for himself. Still, he figured it was a small price to pay for being clothed, fed and educated, and he wasn’t quite a servant, he didn’t have any specific jobs (just did a bit here and there) he still slept in one of the nice rooms of the house, and he ate meals with the family. He just spent his time differently.

Sometimes Phil thought of those days where he’d been so hungry he’d thought his stomach would cave in, the days he was so cold that his hands and feet went numb, those days he was so tired he’d near collapse (and on one memorable occasion, had), and thought of who he was today. While Dan seemed content to try and forget about the bad days and just move on, Phil simply couldn’t. His new life was wonderful and there wasn’t a day that went by that he wasn’t thankful, but he couldn’t forget the other people just like him, the ones less fortunate. He’d look at Dan, who was gradually slotting back almost seamlessly into his old life of luxury apart from a few changes, and wonder how he could play the piano so joyfully, as if he didn’t remember the days his hands ached so much he couldn’t pick up a spoon to feed himself.

So Phil did the best thing he could. Although he was embarrassed to accept the money from Lord Harrington he told himself he’d repay him someway and opened up a greengrocers like the one he’d worked at as a child. In only a few months he became a respected member of the community (after all, a teenager with his own shop was cause for gossip without the fact his establishment was frequented by a young lord and the pair of them appeared in many a newspaper) and did all he could to help the poorer people that passed by his door. Dan often joked about how much of a  _Phil_ anthropist he was but Phil had yet to see the funny side of him trying his hardest to help people.

“We all have our ways of coping,” Dan said to him one day as he sat on one of the boxes of apples in Phil’s little shop, “Yours is working and helping people, mine is pretending it didn’t happen,”

He gazed at the floor and sighed.

“That’s not true actually… I don’t pretend it didn’t happen, I just can’t cope with it all at once. I know- I  _am_  trying Phil, I know I’ll probably never come to terms with it all, but I’m trying. I’m going to study law after all-“

“-I thought you said that’s what Johnson wanted you to do?”

“It is, I just… I want to study law and politics so I can help people. I want to be able to do something about all of this, to make sure that what happened to us never happens to anybody ever again,” he looked up at Phil with determination shining in his eyes, “I can do that if I do law and politics. It won’t be long until I get the money from my inheritance and I know full well how I’m going to spend it. We all cope in our own way, but we also make a difference in our own way, this is how I’m going to do it,”

They also discovered that the press was a very good way of raising awareness. The idea had come to Dan one night as he and Phil were telling Mary and Lord Harrington (who insisted they both call him Uncle Montgomery, or Uncle Monty for short) of the time Joshua had come to their rescue. They went from quite seriously discussing it to Dan almost jumping up and down in his seat with excitement.

“Dan, are you okay?” Phil asked, grinning at Dan’s impression of an excitable puppy, “You’re bouncing!”

“Phil! Remember what Josh said that night? About the papers?”

“No?”

_“But one day, when you’re Lord Howell, you can drag this school’s name through the dirt, tell every newspaper that’ll listen what they did to you. They’d deserve it Daniel, I know I’d cheer you on,”_

Dan smiled brightly and looked to Mary for guidance.

“What do you think? If people know this sort of thing is happening, surely they’ll try to stop it?”

Mary and Harrington were quite obviously thinking exactly the same thing as Phil;  _‘It won’t change anything, it’ll just make a good headline’_ , but they both nodded, desperate to cling on to this moment of rare genuine happiness.

“I’ll call the papers in the morning,” Harrington promised, “It’ll be on the front page in no time,”

* * *

 

“It’s here!” Dan shouted excitedly as he ran through the little shop’s doors, “It just arrived now! I haven’t even skimmed over it, I wanted to read it with you,”

Phil finished up with one of the customers and wished her a good day before he turned the ‘open’ sign around to ‘closed’ and locked the door.

“Go on then, put it on the counter so I can see it too!”

He quickly spread it out and the pair of them scanned over it, Dan’s hands shaking from nervous excitement.

The headline read  ** _‘YOUNG LORD HOWELL MADE SLAVE FOR OWN SCHOOL’_**  and below it there was an illustration of both Dan and Phil with the caption _‘Lord Daniel Howell (right) with his friend, errand boy, Philip Lester (left)’._ Dan tried not to feel irritated as he found Phil to have been dismissed again, Phil just seemed too impressed his name and photo were actually in the paper to really care.

_-The young Lord Daniel Howell has been found living as a servant in the attic of the very school he used to attend._

_After being abused by his stepfather, Edward Johnson, Lord Howell was sent away to boarding school. Unbeknownst to him, while he was away his mother’s health was deteriorating whilst her husband tried to steal away Daniel’s inheritance. Johnson fled after causing the Howell family many problems, police are still searching and his whereabouts are unknown._

_Howell was attending ‘Drew’s School For Boys’ when he got the news that his mother had died leaving him an orphan, due to confusion and lack of proper information, the school’s owners saw fit to put the boy to work leading to months of abuse and hard labour. The young lord escaped from the school with the help of one of his fellow servants, Philip Lester, and the pair made their way to Lord Harrington._

_“If it weren’t for Phil I’d still be there now, or in the workhouse at least,” Lord Howell said, “I’m very grateful to my uncle for letting us stay with him, I hope to raise awareness so what happened to me doesn’t happen to anybody ever again,”_

_When asked to comment, Mr Drew chose not to speak but-_

Dan hadn’t even finished reading the article before he threw it down.

“You’re hardly mentioned!” Dan cried, glowering down at the newspaper, “They cut all your interview and didn’t say  _anything_ about how awful they were to  _you_ , they just said about how bad they were to me! It isn’t even a proper article!”

Phil rolled his eyes and elbowed him.

“Got a big headline and picture though, didn’t it? Anyway,  _you’re_ the one they’re interested in, not me! You’re the lord, Dan, and besides, the article’s all about how  _you_  overcame hardships or something, not me,”

“The whole point of it was to make people realise that kids are being taken advantage of, not to sing my praises,”

The older boy smiled fondly and hugged him tight, thanking the lord that his Dan was back to normal and not the ghost that had stood in his place for the past months.

“We’ve a long way to go before people start caring about things like that,” he soothed, “But anyway, a good thing  _did_ come out of this,”

“What?” Dan snapped sulkily.

“Now more people are out looking for Johnson, they’ll catch him in no time,”

Dan didn’t say anything, but that was one of the things about the paper that was concerning him.

With half the nation’s police force looking for Johnson Dan knew it wouldn’t before he was found, unless he’d fled the country but Dan highly doubted he’d have enough funds to do that. His biggest worry was that if he was found Dan would have to stand up in court to testify against him, the thought of facing the man who’d hurt him for so many years made him feel sick and he almost wished the man would stay hidden forever, just so he’d never have to see him. Phil had promised that if it ever came to it he’d be right by his side the whole time, but Dan was still petrified.

“I guess you’re right,” he said slowly.

“Of course I am! When have I ever been wrong?” Phil joked, ruffling up Dan’s curls lovingly, “Now go on, I’ve got things to do and you’ve got your tutor coming ‘round,”

Dan nodded and squeezed Phil’s hand one last time before he disappeared out of the front door of the shop and ran down the lane to the townhouse. Phil looked down at the newspaper once more and carefully put it to one side, deciding it was another thing to hide in the flower filled pages of Dan’s old bible.

* * *

 

When the boys finally went back to the school they’d been gone many months, long enough for the snow to melt and the flowers to grow and for the leaves to once again fall golden. They stood on the front steps in silence and looked up at the place that once held them prisoner with a strange sort of mourning. Phil looked to Dan, who’d since had a growth spurt and was now almost the same height as him, and had to resist the urge to take his hand in his, that was something they only dare do when in their own privacy nowadays.

“I’ve just realised something,” Phil said quietly, staring at the large brass knocker and trying to pluck up the courage to rap on it, “I’ve never been through the front door before, only through the back… It doesn’t feel right for me to go knocking at it now,”

Dan gently straightened his tie for him, fondly smiling at him all the while.

“Well, now you aren’t a servant, are you? You’re a member of society, you’ve got your own shop and everything! You’ve every right to go through the front door,”

“I’m still a tradesman though, aren’t I?” Phil giggled, knocking on the door before he gave himself the chance to back down, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter now, does it? They can hardly send me round the back,”

The door opened to reveal Dina whose eyes widened comically as she ushered them in, her face bright as she threw her arms around the both of their necks and hugged them close. Phil laughed and hugged her back with as much vigour whereas Dan only put up with it for a moment before he wriggled free and picked up his cardboard box very carefully from the steps and placed it on the side table in the entrance hall.

“Why didn’t you call ahead?” she scolded as she took their coats, “Josh’ll be so excited to see you! Ever since that article about you both in the paper he’s been tellin’ everyone about how he knows you an’ how proud he is,”

Before either of them had the chance to say another word she was hugging them again, happy tears in her eyes.

“You both look so well,” she gushed, cupping their chins and beaming at them, “You aren’t all skin an’ bones anymore. Is that a dimple I see Dan? Who knew you’d look so cute when you have a bit of weight on you? I just want to pinch those chubby little cheeks of yours,”

“No you don’t!” Dan quickly ducked out of the way of her grabbing hands but still smiled, “I’ve had enough people pinching me in my lifetime! And anyway, I’m not chubby!”

“Oh you are, and it’s a good thing too!” she scolded, “Last time I saw you both you were near skeletons! Now look at you! Phil I’ve never seen you so well,”

The anxiety they’d felt at going back had almost fully subsided under Dina’s happy chatter and they began to feel themselves relax.

“Never mind  _us_ looking well Dina, you look positively radiant!” Phil said as he twirled her around, her skirts flying out, “You aren’t pregnant are you?”

“No I am not!” she said, pretending to be stroppy and sounding more like the Dina they’d left, “After the whole thing with the newspaper things got better around here, they- well, I guess you’ll see,”

She looked over to the box and nodded her head at it.

“What’s in there?”

“Present for the headmaster,” Dan explained, “Can we see him?”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded and soon enough the two boys found themselves being led along the once dreaded path to the office. Lessons were still in session so they walked down the familiar halls without being bothered, though the almost silence unnerved Dan and he felt himself begin to feel sick again, the horrible memories of the few times he’d been in the headmaster’s study springing up in his mind. Although Drew no longer had any hold over them they still couldn’t help but be a bit apprehensive as Dina knocked on the door.

“Lord Howell and Mr Lester here to see you sir,” she said primly, winking at the two boys as she opened the door and let them in, “I’ll be seeing you downstairs won’t I?”

“Of course! Tell Joshua and Cook we’re on our way,” Phil smiled.

“Right you are,  _sir_ ,”

Phil rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue as she skipped away, and turned to walk with Dan into the office, his head spinning as he tried to take deep breaths. He reminded himself that he was eighteen now, no longer a child and no longer at the risk of getting hit, Drew wouldn’t  _dare_. He squeezed Dan’s hand one more time before they both walked in, their heads held high.

They looked strong and proud but it all was rather wasted as the man sat at the desk wasn’t the one they’d expected.

“Mr Brigshaw?” Dan said, startled, “Sorry sir, have you swapped studies with Mr Drew?”

The man in question looked up from his marking and smiled sagely, getting to his feet and shaking the very confused Dan’s hand.

“It’s good to see you again, Howell, Phil,” he said, patting Phil on the back, “I think you better both sit down, this may take some explaining,”

* * *

 

“After that article came out everything went into a flurry,” Brigshaw said at long last, sipping at the tea Phil had kindly poured for him, “Parents were calling for their boys to come home, we had reporters constantly turning up at the door, you caused quite a storm I must say. Before any of the boys had chance to leave Mr Drew and Mrs Barrymore disappeared off in the night leaving the school without an owner or anyone to pay off any of the debts,”

“Then how-?” Dan began.

“-I presume the reason your uncle sent you here was for me to tell you,” Brigshaw continued, “After they left I sent a letter to Lord Harrington enquiring after your wellbeing and asking for advice, there wasn’t anything I could do other than ask for help really, and he is very well known for being sympathetic towards certain causes. After quite a bit of discussion, he bought the school and everything in it and made me headmaster,”

Dan and Phil looked to one another in shock, wondering how on earth the lord had managed to keep all of it a secret.

“So this is now ‘Harington’s School For Boys’… Blimey,” Phil muttered, leaning back heavily in his chair, “His lordship certainly  _has_  been busy,”

Dan nodded in agreement and the pair of them sat there slightly stunned for a few moments. Mr Brigshaw smiled and continued.

“I’m sure Dina and Joshua will want to tell you everything that’s been happening downstairs as well, so I’ll leave that to them, but I must talk to  _you_ about some things now,”

Phil nodded eagerly.

“Of course sir,”

“As soon as you two went running out of that door we were terrified,” Brigshaw said sternly, “The city isn’t a good place to be on your own, I had visions of you dead in an alleyway, the only thing that stopped me sending out a search party was Joshua harping on about some uncle of yours, Howell. It was a very foolish thing to do, running off like that,”

Dan frowned and held Phil’s hand beneath the table tightly.

“We had no choice sir, if we hadn’t have run we’d have ended up in the workhouse,” Phil said reproachfully.

“Probably been whipped as well considering how angry Mr Drew was with us,” Dan added bitterly, “If we hadn’t have gone when we did we’d be locked away right now,”

Brigshaw sighed exasperatedly and shook his head at the two of them.

“All you had to do was tell me about Lord Harrington. Forgive me Phil, but the word of a teacher would have been taken much more seriously the first time around than the word of a servant,”

“Yeah, well, next time I’m about to be thrown out and I’m panicking I’ll remember that,” Phil snapped without thinking, he realised what he’d done and quickly shook his head, “Forgive me sir! Sorry! I’m just-“

“-Forget about it Phil, I was being harsh. I know you were under pressure, we were just all extremely worried about you both,”

Both boys squirmed embarrassedly but nodded in agreement nonetheless.

“Sorry sir,” Dan muttered, “We weren’t thinking,”

Brigshaw stared at them for a while, looking at how much they’d both changed. Not only were they both well dressed, taller and actually had a bit of weight on them, they looked stronger. Although Phil still had the same slightly serious, slightly silly personality, when he spoke to him he spoke less like a scared servant and more like a young man who was his equal. Brigshaw tried to imagine the Dan he’d first met being so calm, the Dan from before would have been unable to sit still he’d have been shaking so much and would only have been able to stutter out an apology, this Dan was acting like the young lord he was, although still a little unsure of himself. Brigshaw was pleased.

“I must also ask you, why on earth did you not come to one of the tutors before it got so bad?” the teacher questioned, “Surely you realised that we would try to help?”

Dan snorted a little and raised one eyebrow, reminding Phil very uncomfortably of Lord Harrington.

“I’m sorry Mr Brigshaw, but we weren’t really given any reason to trust anybody, especially not teachers. If Mr Drew had found out can you imagine what would have happened to us? We’d have been locked away before we could even blink,”

Although the teacher was slightly offended by their distrust for him, he could understand it, he looked at the two broken boys and cursed the people that had done this to them.

“I’m sorry you felt that way, I assure you I’d have done everything in my powers to help you, but I can understand why,”

Phil looked from Dan to Brigshaw with worry.

“We don’t think badly of you sir, we just like to keep ourselves to ourselves… and it was never really that bad,”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“Really Phil?” he groaned, “Phil’s much more forgiving than I am, he keeps saying how the situation was the problem when I really think Mr Drew and Mrs Barrymore were the worst part…”

“To be fair, Dan, you did lose them an awful lot of money! I know they were cruel in the way they dealt with it, no, they were downright  _disgusting_ in the way they dealt with it, but offering you a place to stay was really generous of them,”

“What excuse did they have for treating you the way they did? You were already working for a pittance and doing ridiculous hours, what excuse had they for starving and beating you?”

Phil ducked his head and shifted nervously.

“They didn’t  _beat_ me-“

“-I remember the first year you were working for them,” Brigshaw said, looking at Phil with stern but kind eyes, “I never saw you without a bruise or an empty stomach. The day you were whipped for a theft they couldn’t even prove was you I nearly handed in my resignation,”

“That was just a really bad day, sir!”

“Phil, you spent the week in bed unable to move and running a fever because you’d become so thin and tired you’d gotten sick! There’s no excuse for what they did to you, hurting you for something you didn’t even do was dreadful enough, but refusing to treat you when you got sick from their mistreatment of you? It’s appalling!”

Phil hung his head and played with his hands.

“They didn’t owe me anything though,” he whispered, “They gave me a job when nobody else would, they gave me somewhere to live and things to eat… Even when it got really bad I was just grateful, you don’t know how much worse it could have been,”

“Instead of dying on the streets you were dying in their attic,” Dan said, although they’d had this conversation may times he was desperate for Phil to see how wrong it all was, “You can’t deny it Phil, you  _mustn’t_. You shouldn’t forgive them for what they did, god Phil, they abused you! They treated you worse than an animal-“

“-They did not!”

“Yes they did! They starved you, overworked you, abused and belittled you! Nothing can excuse that! You were a child-“

“-I was fourteen!”

“Yes, a child!” Brigshaw interrupted angrily, “You were a child Philip, but even if you’d have been an adult at the time, what they did to you was wrong,”

Phil clenched his fists and hung his head, not wanting to make eye contact as he was so ashamed, yet furious.

“I don’t see why you care so much, it’s all done with now, it doesn’t matter anymore,”

The teacher frowned and closed his eyes, massaging his temples as he thought.

“May I ask you, do you think what they did to Howell was wrong?” Brigshaw said at long last, “Do you think they abused him?”

Phil looked confused for a minute.

“Well, yes, they hurt him. They- they treated him horribly,”

“So you think it was wrong?”

Phil scowled and nodded.

“Yes sir,”

“What makes it any different when it’s  _you_ they were hurting?”

Phil blinked a few times and seemed to consider it and Dan began to hope that they were finally getting through to him, then Phil began to speak again and all his hopes were dashed.

“Dan’s a lord,” Phil said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “And he was one of the pupils, a young gentleman, they shouldn’t have laid a finger on him,”

“Why does it make a difference he’s a lord? Aren’t you both human?”

Phil looked up properly at long last and gave a small, sad smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“We both know who’s more important though sir. People only care about what happened here because Dan’s aristocracy, because what happened to him is a crime. Nobody cares about what happened to me, you don’t see anybody complaining, do you? Apart from you, sir, and Dan’s family, nobody else cares,”

Brigshaw looked weary as he nodded his agreement but Dan was seething.

“They do care! Of course they do! I’m not more important than you Phil-“

“-Oh but you are, and that’s fine,” Phil turned to his beloved companion and sighed, “What happened to me and you was bad, yes, but it happens every day to kids all over the country. To be fair, I’d had worse off my Da as a kid than what the master gave me, and I bet you could ask any child on the east end and they’d tell you the same. It was scary, yeah, but not uncommon,”

“But-“

“-There’s no two ways about it Dan, you’re worth more than I am,” Phil tilted his head to one side and grimaced, “I’m ‘Phil’ or ‘boy’ and you’re ‘Lord Howell’ or ‘young sir’. As much as I’m grateful to Uncle Monty, don’t get me wrong, his first concern for you was your education, and his first concern for me was if I would be able to get a job,”

Dan felt bitter tears well up in his eyes, he was trying to deny it but he simply couldn’t, people did care more about him simply because of who his parents were.

“You’re important Phil, every person is, just because my Papa was a lord and your Da was a factory worker doesn’t mean I’m worth more than you. It doesn’t! You- You’re far more competent than me at  _everything_ -”

“-‘Cept Latin,” Phil joked, trying to lighten the mood but Dan wasn’t impressed.

“You can do so many things Phil, you’ve helped so many people, me especially… You’re worth the world,”

Mr Brigshaw could see that this was something they’d spoken about many times, and although he wished he could help resolve it, he knew this was something they needed to figure out by themselves.

“Let’s continue this discussion at another time,” he said gently, pretending he couldn’t see Dan’s tears to save the boy from embarrassment, “Now, I’m sure the staff are desperate to get a hold of you so I won’t keep you any longer,”

“Thank you sir!” Phil said, getting to his feet with a big false smile,” Now come on, Bear,”

“Oh! Wait,” Dan gasped, turning around behind him and picking up the cardboard box he’d lugged about since that morning (despite Phil offering to carry it for him), “This was really intended for Mr Drew, but I suppose it could still be used?”

He set the box on the desk and took off the lid, showing the new headmaster what was inside.

“It’s a tea service,” the man said blankly, unwrapping one delicate teacup from the newspaper it was packaged in.

“Yes sir, to replace the one I dropped on the day we… um _, left_ ,” Dan took out a saucer and turned it upside down, showing the stamp, “Johnson apparently stole the Wedgewood set, so I brought Mama’s Royal Daulton,”

Brigshaw was confused to say the least but thanked Dan anyway, still not quite understanding.

“Lord Harrington told us to bring it,” Phil explained, “It was the only remaining debt Dan had to the school so he said we should come pay it, I guess that was all just an excuse to get us here, huh?”

“Well, we’ll just be going downstairs sir, thank you for having us,”

Brigshaw nodded as he placed the teacup down and smiled.

“Thank you boys!”

And with that the pair of them walked out, their shoulders dropped and seeming a lot calmer than when they’d walked in. The tutor watched them leave with a sad smile, they had changed so much in some ways but seemed to have regressed in others, Phil still apparently thought little of himself even though he seemed more confident and Dan was still as highly strung, he just was more open about showing it and no longer fought a losing battle to keep it all in.

He frowned pensively as the door clicked shut and stared down at the tea set, which was quite obviously a family heirloom, rather morosely. He wrapped the cup and saucer back up in the crumpled newspaper and placed it back in its box, vowing he’d keep it safe unlike the two boys he’d thoroughly let down.

* * *

 

As they were leaving the office to head downstairs the pupils all began to come out of lessons and as soon as they saw who it was they crowded around them, excitedly asking questions and wishing them well.

"You look so healthy, Johnson- I mean, Lord Howell!" Nickels cried, having sprung up a foot in height since they’d last seen him as boys that age tend to do, "And Phil! You look like a gentleman now,"

"He  _is_  a gentleman,” Jones said knowingly, “My mother said he’s a ‘pillar of the community’ because of his shop,”

Phil laughed and smiled down at the two younger boys.

"Wouldn’t quite go that far, sir, but please thank Mrs Jones for me,"

“Oh you mustn’t call me sir now! You’re a proper adult with a job and everything!” Jones protested.

Phil snorted and shook his head.

“And what was I before? The cat’s mother?” he said fondly, “Anyway, your mother’s one of my esteemed customers so you’re most definitely a ‘young sir’,”

Jones blushed at that and the two began to talk a little about school life since the pair of them had been gone, it was then Phil noticed Dan’s frantic tugging at his arm.

“What’s the matter?”

Dan nodded over to the end of the corridor where Thomas Ganz was walking towards them, obviously coming to see what all the fuss from the younger boys was about, as more of the pupils noticed him they quickly scarpered, leaving only Jones and Nickels left. As soon as Ganz spotted them his eyes widened comically and he stopped in his tracks for a moment, the boys looking on in silence.

He floundered for a moment before shaking himself and continuing to walk forwards, his head held high but his usual swagger gone.

“Howell, Phil,” he acknowledged shortly, his whole demeanour unsure, “I came to see what was happening, I should have expected it would be something like this,”

Dan fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms, mirroring Phil who was stood in a similar fashion.

“And what do you mean by that?” Dan snapped, too tired to really care about being polite to a stupid boy who’d spent the better part of a year tormenting him, “Can they not talk to their old classmates?”

For a moment Ganz looked as though he was going to take the rise but instead he just sighed, looking defeated.

“They’re free to do as they wish when it comes to you two,” he said tiredly, “I just came to calm them down but it seems like there’s no need,”

As he turned on his heel and began to stalk away Phil turned to Nickels and pulled a face.

“We’re lucky Monroe wasn’t with him, don’t really fancy getting a black eye,”

Ganz stopped and turned back around, a flush rising on his pale cheeks and clashing rather unfortunately with his reddish hair.

“Monroe was asked to leave,” he said shortly, “As soon as Mr Brigshaw became headmaster he asked Monroe’s parents to take him home, apparently it was because of the mess he made of you Phil,”

Nickels nodded enthusiastically as he jumped up and down on the spot, Dan couldn’t figure out if it was from excitement or nerves.

“He was bragging about how he’d punched somebody who’d ended up in the newspaper!” he chirped, grinning up at Dan, “Mr Brown told him off but the headmaster was so angry he sent Monroe to pack without another word!”

Dan was ecstatic about that and he looked to Phil in joy, but the other boy was looking rather pale and worried.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“I just can’t believe a student got sent away for having a scrap with me,” Phil said, still in shock, “That should never have happened! I’m surprised his parents didn’t complain…”

Dan was about to kick up a fuss, but to everybody watching’s surprise, Ganz did it for him.

“It was more than a scrap, Phil, you beat each other black and blue!” the boy laughed in his usual harsh cold chortle, “Good god! I was surprised he wasn’t expelled the day it happened!”

Dan glowered at him, his fists clenched.

“I’m surprised  _you_ weren’t expelled, after all, you terrorised me from the day we met! Three good shirts you and Monroe ruined by splashing ink at me,”

Ganz rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his long nose sticking up in the air.

“Well, I suppose you can afford to replace them now, can’t you? A lord again and no longer a skivvy, hmn? Now don’t let me keep you, I’m sure you’ve an appointment at Buckingham Palace to keep,”

Dan laughed and tilted his head to one side, preparing himself for the look of horror he was sure to receive.

“No, the kitchens,” he called over without a hint of shame, “And I was always a lord, even when I was a skivvy. Maybe I didn’t look or act like it, but I’ve  _always_  been Lord Howell,”

Ganz didn’t turn around but they could see from his demeanour alone that he was furious, that made Dan all the happier with himself. He watched on imperiously as the head boy stalked off, his nose high in the air.

“Now,” he said, turning to Jones and Nickels, the only two boys left, “We must be off now, Dina and Joshua are waiting for us,”

“Oh must you go?” Jones sighed.

Phil grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m sure if you ask your Ma she’ll bring you ‘round to visit. When it’s the holidays see if she’ll pop you around to the shop and we can all have tea, you too Nickels,”

“Really?” Nickels asked, looking as though all of his Christmases had come as once, “Oh that’s jolly good of you Phil!”

Dan beamed at the two little ones and gave a short wave, his happy mood elevated even more.

“You’re really sweet, you know that, right?” he murmured to Phil who simply shrugged his shoulders but blushed nonetheless.

* * *

 

Walking down the familiar corridor and going through the door that marked the difference between ‘upstairs’ and ‘downstairs’ was rather surreal, especially considering the once peeling whitewash had a new lick of paint and the door no longer squeaked ominously. It was as though as soon as they’d left the grime had been swept away with them, Dan wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“In the four years I worked here not once was this painted!” Phil gasped in wonder, “Dina said it hadn’t been done in years, Uncle Monty must have listened to our moaning and paid to have it done,”

Dan nodded, he too speechless.

On they went down the winding and impractical corridor until they reached the steep stone stairs where they stopped a moment to calm themselves down. Although neither of them would admit it, they were quite scared of actually going through the kitchen doors, the place holding some of the worst memories either of them possessed. Phil glanced over at Dan who’d gone pale and sickly looking and sighed. The kitchen was home to some extremely traumatic experiences for the other boy, Phil dread to think what was running through his head. He only hoped it wouldn’t lead to him being sick again, it had been months since Dan had panicked so much he’d thrown up, Phil would hate for this to set him back.

They steeled themselves, took a deep breath, and carried on going down, pushing open the door before they had the chance to change their minds.

The familiar smell of the room brought memories bubbling to the surface, some they’d rather forget but others happy, like Christmas dinner and the rare occasions Cook would be gone and they could joke around as they worked. The kitchen itself had changed very little, but it still showed the signs of having been painted and given a good scrub, there was even a new oven and the chipped sink had been replaced. Something that  _hadn’t_  been altered was the battered oak table where Dina and Joshua sat waiting for them, Josh with his usual cigarette in his mouth.

“Look at the both of you!” he yelled, stubbing the cigarette out and jumping to his feet, hugging them tightly, “A pair of little lords!”

Phil laughed joyfully and didn’t even try to wriggle away when his hair was roughly messed up, instead leaning into it. Dan giggled quietly and gently elbowed the man, but he too was overjoyed to see him. He’d not realised how much he’d missed the footman until he was stood before him, now he wondered how he’d lasted a day without seeing him.

“Does this mean I’ll have to start callin’ you ‘sir’ now Phil?” Josh teased, pushing them both to sit down at their old places at the table.

“Oh most certainly,” Phil said in his snottiest voice, shooting a teasing look in Dan’s direction, “I’ll have you know I don’t associate with peasants now!”

“I bet you don’t!” Joshua laughed, his grey eyes shining and his face lighting up, “What’s this I hear about a shop, eh? Why haven’t you brought me anything? Don’t you think I deserve it for being nice to you all these years?”

Though the man was obviously joking, Phil did still feel a twinge of guilt.

“I should have thought ahead,” he groaned, “I’ll bring something ‘round next week, we get our order of strawberries in then,”

Dan sniggered but smiled lovingly nonetheless.

“Honestly Josh, those fraises of Phil’s are to die for,”

Dina caught the footman’s eye and grinned as the two boys began to giggle to themselves, evidently it was a private joke that the two staff weren’t privy to but just seeing the two boys  _smile_ after so long was good enough.

After that the conversation became more natural, the four of them catching up on almost a year’s worth of lost time, drinking mugs of tea and laughing away. Seeing Dan happily chatter on to Dina and Josh about his plans for the future and what he’d like to do next filled Phil with a sense of warm bubbling pride and he felt himself grin from ear to ear.

“Phil still has a bad habit of nicking candle stubs when he thinks nobodies looking,” Dan said suddenly, grinning impishly at Phil who was feeling rather put out.

“I do not-“

“-Yes you do! Mrs Battersea, the housekeeper at Uncle Monty’s-” he said, turning to Dina and Joshua, “-told me. She said she’d not say anything but you only had to ask and she’d give you a fresh one,”

Phil blushed and shook his head. Stealing small bits and bobs was a habit he just hadn’t been able to kick, even if he knew he could afford candles now that didn’t mean he didn’t reflexively steal a stub here or there. For the first few weeks he’d stolen bits of food and squirreled it away, rationing himself on how much he ate, just in case one day it all came crashing down and he’d have to fend for himself again. He suddenly started to feel very sick, if the woman had known about the candles, did that mean she’d known about the food?

Dan saw him panicking and shook his head.

“It’s fine Phil, nobodies mad at you over it,”

Phil stuck out his tongue and pouted.

“Yeah, well, no need to embarrass me about it then, is there?”

Joshua laughed at them both, shaking his head fondly.

“Neither of you ‘ave changed much then, still squabbling away! But I must say yer definitely a lot brighter than I’ve ever seen you,” he said, pouring Dan more tea with a smile, “I’m proud of you, standing up for y’selves like you did,”

“Couldn’t have done it without you though,” Phil pointed out, “If you hadn’t have opened the door we’d have been done for,”

“Yes,” Dan nodded earnestly, “You were amazing Josh!”

Phil’s eyes widened as he looked anxiously around the kitchen, hushing Dan hurriedly.

“Don’t let Cook hear!” he hissed, “Can you imagine how she’d react if she knew it was Josh?”

Dina giggled a little and looked rather smug as she leant back in her chair.

“No chance of her hearin’, right Joshua?”

The footman nodded, he too looking gleeful.

“Ran off with the milkman she did!” Dina said, looking extremely proud to be the one delivering the news, “Only two weeks ago, said she couldn’t stand workin’ here since the old master left! I couldn’t stand that old bat, her ‘sweetheart’s welcome to her,”

Phil wasn’t one to revel in gossip, but this was far too juicy and happened to be about somebody he disliked immensely so he could be forgiven for gasping in exaggerated shock and begging for more details.

“She’s been here longer than any of us! I wonder how she’s doing… do you know where she’s working now?”

Dina smirked happily as she leant forwards, making a great show of telling her secret.

“ _Well_ , last I heard she was working in some toff’s house down in Westminster, but I reckon as soon as they put two and two together and figure out she’s the very woman who half-starved the nation’s current darling she’ll be out,”

Dan snorted at that and took a sip of his tea, trying not to show how thrilled he was about it all. Phil, on the other hand, looked a little glum at the thought.

“Oh… It does seem a little harsh don’t you think?” he said timidly.

“Harsh?” Joshua snapped, “ _Harsh_? Are you forgetting this is the banshee who beat you black and blue?”

“She was hardly  _that_ bad,” Dan commented fairly, tilting his head and shrugging, “She was more one for slapping, and I think we could both handle a smack or two,”

“To be fair Dan, one day she did hit your hands so badly I had to do your buttons up for you,” Phil said as he shook his head at the memory, “Still, I don’t think she deserves to be jobless…”

The maid laughed darkly, a wicked expression on her dainty face.

“You didn’t hear her after you’d left, swearing like a sailor she was. Treated me and Josh like dirt, expectin’ us to just bow down to her and when we didn’t she’d try to talk to us like she’d done you. I said to Josh, ‘if that woman calls me ‘girl’ one more time I’ll slap her’, didn’t I Joshua?”

The footman nodded, obviously very amused with her antics.

“And did you?” Phil asked, caught up in Dina’s melodramatic tale.

“No… But I had a good mind to!” she added quickly, “She left soon after though, so it didn’t really matter either way,”

Dan laughed out loud at that, a dimple popping in his cheek and his eyes bright. While Phil simply basked in the glow of the other’s happiness, Dina and Josh stared at him in shock.

“Bloody hell!” Joshua murmured, “I never thought I’d see the day you’d laugh like that Daniel, I was convinced you couldn’t do it anymore!”

Phil shot the older man a warning look, praying that bringing attention to it wouldn’t bring Dan down and make him draw back into his shell again. Seemingly thinking the same thing, Dina gently punched him on the arm and Josh immediately began to backtrack.

“I mean it as a good thing, sir!” he said, hurrying over his words, “It’s good to see you so happy-“

“-Joshua, it’s fine,” Dan sniggered, the boy Phil knew and loved coming out in full force, “And don’t call me ‘sir’ for Christ’s sake! I’m still the same boy who moped about the place, I’m just happier now,”

“A little more cynical and jaded though,” Phil said under his breath, smirking at the glower he received in response, “And now he can’t dress himself, has somebody else do it for him… cough-me!”

“Shut up Phil! You know it’s only a ‘keeping up appearances’ thing…”

Phil snorted, proud that he’d managed to get a little dig in there as revenge.

“Didn’t you forget how to tie your shoelaces the other day?” he teased.

“No I did not! Don’t make it seem as though I’ve become spoilt because I haven’t,”

Seeing that Dan was genuinely hurt by it, Phil quickly gave him a reassuring smile and a whispered apology.

“No, Dan’s working hard to be fair to him, he’s doing really well in his studies and he even comes and helps me in the shop on Saturdays!”

“Does he now?” Dina said, “Well, as soon as you move back into that big manor house of yours tell us, I think we’d both like to come work for you, wouldn’t we Josh?”

The footman nodded, but he looked a little embarrassed.

“I can’t believe you were as blunt as that,” he muttered, “But yeah, it would be nice, change of scenery and all that,”

Dan looked rather taken aback, but Phil was less surprised and simply looked at Dan expectantly.

“I mean, of course,” the younger boy said slowly, “But it’ll be quite a long while before I move back there… I’ve got school to finish, and then university, I was planning on renting a townhouse until I’d finished my studies so I could stay in the city-“

“-So we’re sorted then,” Dina said brusquely, bustling in her seat in a manner that meant she wasn’t to be argued with, “As soon as you move into that townhouse we’ll come work for you, can’t stand this place anymore!”

While Dan looked rather flustered and put upon, Phil looked over the moon.

“It’ll be great!” he grinned, jumping up and down in his chair, “You can be the housekeeper, Dina, and Joshua can be the butler! All we need now is a cook!”

“Stop hiring and promoting people! I haven’t even got my inheritance yet, let alone a flaming house!” Although Dan sounded frustrated he was still laughing so Phil took that as a cue to carry on.

“Won’t it be great though Dan? It’ll be like living here again but it’ll be happy and fun… When I’m not at the grocers I can be the footman and take the coats if you want?”

Dan sniggered and flicked him on the arm. They chatted away for a little longer before Dina looked up at the clock and sighed, getting to her feet and walking over to the stove.

“I’m sorry boys, but I best be sorting out dinner, without a cook I’ve been having to do it by myself and it’s taking twice as long,”

Phil jumped to his feet and took of his blazer and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

“Don’t worry Dina, I’ll help you,” he said brightly.

“No you bloomin’ well won’t! Not in those fancy clothes!” she shooed him away gently and carried on peering into the bubbling pot on the stove, “Now, I’m sure there’s a few things in the attic you’ll want to be taking with you, why don’t you pick them up? And if you’re lucky there might be some dinner left when you come down,”

Phil smiled gratefully and gave her one last hug before he put his jacket on again.

“C’mon then Bear,” he said, pulling Dan to his feet, “Don’t want to get under your future housekeeper’s feet now, do we?”

“She’s not even stopped being a maid yet,” Dan argued half-heartedly, but he let himself be pulled to his feet and the pair of them left the room, leaving a very happy Dina in their wake.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Dina turned to Joshua who grinned happily.

“I’m so glad they’re alright,” he said, rolling himself another cigarette with nimble fingers, “I haven’t half been worried about them,”

The thing was, life hadn’t been as positive as they’d made it seem when they were talking to the two boys, in fact, it had been awful.

From the moment the two had run out of the kitchen door all hell had broken loose. First there had been the question of how they’d gotten out, Dina had suggested that maybe Phil had stolen the key or picked the lock, but that was ignored and the blame was shifted to the two servants as they were the only ones able to have done it. As neither would admit to it there was nothing that could be done, but they both noticed a significant change in attitudes towards them. Dina found herself being sent out at ungodly hours on errands and Joshua found himself scrubbing floors, neither of them had really realised how hard the boys had worked until their duties were piled on top of their own. Within the school there was a deep feeling of unrest and so everybody was on edge, that feeling only worsened when the first article came out, then it broke into pandemonium.

Reporters came knocking at all hours, angry letters piled through the doors from people who criticized the owners mixed with requests from parents to have their boys sent home, everybody began to panic. Mrs Barrymore became increasingly unhinged now her secret was out and she’d gone back into her mourning clothes and spent all of her time locked away in her room, Mr Drew had become so strict with the pupils his lessons more resembled a military operation and Cook had begun to think she ran the house and spent the majority of her time screaming at her fellow staff members. That all changed when Mr Drew and Mrs Barrymore disappeared in the night, then things got impossibly worse for a period of time.

With nobody to pay the rent or pay the staff the future of the school was uncertain, the three tutors were doing everything in their powers to keep things calm but failed rather abysmally so there was a slight hint of hysteria surrounding the school. It only all seemed to get relatively back to normal when Lord Harrington got involved, and then life seemed better than it ever had.

None of this stopped Dina and Joshua worrying about the two boys, when they hadn’t heard anything in weeks they’d become quite scared that they weren’t safe after all, and even when they knew they were with Lord Harrington, they still feared the worst. The article soothed them a little and just seeing them in person had helped, but they both knew they’d never stop worrying about them, they’d all become too close for that.

* * *

 

Phil glanced over at Dan, who’d pulled out his pocket watch, and frowned deeply. Slowly but surely the boy had stopped being so dependent on the clock to calm him down and so the watch had ceased to be removed from his pocket to do anything but check the time. It wasn’t the only change, Dan had also stopped telling so many stories of his parents to Phil, instead actually asking him about his own. Phil supposed it was because he now had Uncle Monty and Mary to talk to about them, both of them eager to hear about his Mama and Papa and how much he missed them, so there was now no need for him to tell Phil, so he instead actually showed an interest in  _him_. Phil smiled at the thought, Dan had always been too wrapped up in himself to really notice anything that went on around him, being safe again had apparently helped him begin to overcome those tendencies.

“I always count the steps you know, in my head…” Dan said quietly, looking down at his feet, “Mama and Papa used to do it with me at home when I was little, I guess it helped calm me down a bit here,”

Phil instantly knew how uncomfortable just going up the stairs to the attic had made the younger boy, no way else would he be telling a random anecdote otherwise.

“Well, I’ll do it with you now if it helps,” he said quietly, looking behind him at Dan, “What step are you on?”

Dan glanced up and caught his eye, smiling ruefully.

“This is the first time I’ve not been counting, I’m trying to kick those little habits,”

Phil grinned at him as they stopped on the second landing, only one flight of stairs below their little attic. Even here had been cleaned up, the little corridor was brighter with a new coat of paint and Dina’s door had been replaced with a new one, Phil wondered at the fact Lord Harrington had obviously spared no expense.

“It’s all been fettled hasn’t it,” he commented, glancing down at the new floorboard that had been put in to replace a wonky one, “Wonder if the classrooms have been done up?”

Dan nodded mutely, feeling the hammer in his chest begin to pick up at the thought of what was only one floor above them. Phil was feeling much the same but he put on a brave face and gave Dan a tight squeeze of a hug, though it was more of a comfort for himself.

“Come on, we don’t have to stay there long, nothing’s going to happen to us,” he whispered.

Dan leaned into him for a moment longer before he pulled away and headed off up the increasingly rickety stairs.

As they got higher, the spider webs got thicker and thicker and the slightly musty smell got stronger. Dan began to wonder if anybody had been there at all since they’d gone or if the place had just been forgotten about and swept under the rug, never to be thought of again. When they finally reached the door at the top of the stairs they were out of breath, unused to climbing all that way but also a little panicky, knowing exactly what waited for them but not sure if they actually wanted to see it.

With a slight shove of the ancient door, they walked inside.

The scary thing was, everything was still the same, the attic hadn’t changed a bit, it still had that same depressing other worldly quality, it was still miserably cold and damp and there was still that thin layer of dust that coated the uneven floorboards and stuck to the grimy windows. Unlike everything else in the servants’ quarters, the attic had been left untouched, everything from Phil’s unmade bed to Dan’s grubby handkerchief on the floor; it all remained exactly as they’d left it almost a year ago.

It was like a punch to the gut and both boys simply stood there, staring, as all the air seemed to leave their lungs. Everything suddenly felt quite real again, but not the nice reality of feeling slightly too hot when you’re sat by the fire or when your teeth ache from too much ice-cream. No, this was the harsh, cold type of reality that made everything feel monochrome and as though there was no hope left in the world, the reality that leaves you wishing you’d never been freed from your ignorance.

On unsteady feet, Dan made his way across the room. His hands shook as he opened the chest at the end of what once was his bed, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of his old clothes and tatty books, a pair of battered boots with holes in the soles placed to one side. He felt himself begin to cry properly at the sight of a torn shirt that was stuffed in the bottom, blood still on it from that horrible night all that time ago, the scars on his back yet another memento.

He looked down at what he was currently wearing, his soft and rich clothes without a speck of dirt and his bright shining boots Phil had fussed over that morning, and felt himself become quite overwhelmed. He glanced over to Phil who was reacting in much the same way and felt his heart break as the older boy hastily tried to wipe away a tear. He staggered over to him and held his hand tight.

“Do you see how bad it was now?” Dan whispered, looking at him intensely, “You must see… We- We… How could I forget it was this bad?”

Phil nodded jerkily, his hold on Dan’s hand tightening uncomfortably and the room blurring as he began to cry properly. He turned and pulled Dan close, squeezing him to his chest and letting himself sob, all the pain he’d suppressed over the last few months bubbling out of him and it felt as though he couldn’t turn the tap off.

“Oh Bear,” he muttered into Dan’s hair, inhaling the clean scent, “We’re safe now though, nothing like this will ever happen to us again, I promise,”

“You can’t promise that Phil, nobody can,” Dan cried, his arms wrapped tightly around the other’s waist, “I never thought I’d end up here in the first place, did I? I was promised I’d always be safe and look what happened with that,”

Phil led them both to sit on the bed and had yet another uncomfortable flashback to the many times he’d sat and comforted Dan there before, he shuddered as he thought about it. The major difference now though was the fact that this wasn’t permeant, they never had to come back if they didn’t wish it and Phil doubt they ever would.

Though their time spent at the school was hellish, there were some things Phil dearly missed about it. He missed being anonymous, free to slip into the background, now he couldn’t do that, he was too well-known to get away with it. He missed being able to act himself in public, able to eat as messily as he wanted and to be as frank with people as he could, now he had to eat daintily and mind his Ps and Qs and if he dare speak to anybody perfectly honestly he’d be on the receiving end of uncomfortable looks and raised eyebrows. The thing he missed most though was being able to be as close to Dan as possible.

He’d never really considered their relationship strange until he’d gone to live with Lord Harrington, he’d just known that he loved Dan dearly and that was that. He’d known that young men generally didn’t go about holding hands or clinging to each other like him and Dan were wont to do, but he hadn’t seen it as a problem, it was just them being protective of one another. It was strange really, he’d never seen their love as lustful or immoral, he’d just seen it as love, plain and simple. Sometimes he tried to explain to himself his exact feelings for the younger boy but he found he couldn’t put them into words, he just knew he cared for him deeply.

He never wanted to give up something so pure, they were soul mates and their relationship wasn’t based on lust, but on love and sheer protective instincts, to lose that would be to lose everything in Phil’s eyes.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Phil cupped Dan’s chin in his hand and tilted his head up so he could see his face. Though he no longer looked gaunt and pale, the same haunted look was in his big brown eyes and Phil wanted nothing more than to rid the younger boy of it, to fill him with the hope and joy he deserved, but he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that was possible. So he did the next best thing, he leant forwards and gently placed his lips to Dan’s own, and they began to kiss.

It was different to any other kiss they’d given each other, those were usually just pecks on the cheek or forehead, hurried or intended to soothe, this was nothing like that, not even like the chaste kisses on the lips they’d shared when they were too tired to tell themselves it was wrong. They were both still crying and it was rather clumsy and hurried, neither of them having done anything like this before nor even thought about doing it with somebody of the same gender. It was a mix of overwhelming grief and confusion but complete adoration as well. They clung to each other tightly and only stopped when they had to pull apart to draw breath, the pair of them panting and leaning on one another for support.

After a long while of saying nothing, Dan finally broke the silence.

“What does… What does that make us?” he whispered.

Phil thought about it for a while, his arms not once unwrapping themselves from around the younger.

“It makes us Dan and Phil,” he said at long last, “It makes us Dan and Phil, and that’s all,”

Dan swallowed had and closed his eyes, resting his head in the crook of Phil’s neck.

“Doesn’t it change anything?”

Phil took a deep breath, his chest heaving.

“Do you feel any different? I feel exactly the same,”

“Yeah,” Dan murmured, incredibly tired all of a sudden.

“Then maybe we don’t need to put a label on it, maybe nothing has changed,” Phil looked around the old attic and felt a lot lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted, “We’re still us, we’re still the same people. I still- I still  _love_  you the same,”

Dan pulled away and looked into Phil’s worried eyes, his head spinning from the shock of it all. Phil began to panic a little and grabbed a hold of Dan’s hand.

“But if you don’t feel that way, that’s okay! I just… I just want you to know that however you want me, I’m yours. I’m completely devoted to you,”

Dan too looked around the dusty old room that had been the backdrop to a year’s worth of heartache and then back at Phil, who was trying to stop himself from breaking down.

“I don’t know what this is,” Dan whispered, smiling gently and unsurely, “I don’t know what I feel, but I do know that I can’t be without you, and I don’t want to be,”

They sat on the bed for a short while longer before standing up and collecting the remains of their belongings. They didn’t ever plan on coming back so this was most certainly goodbye, though neither of them were sure about how that made them feel.

They took one last look at the attic, with its bare rafters and warped windows, and closed the door behind them. As they walked down the creaking stairs, the paper sign that read ‘Philip ~~’s~~ _and Daniel’s_  Room’fluttered down after them and Dan picked it up with trembling hands and placed it in his pocket.

They were free.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you aren’t going to stay for dinner?” Dina asked as they picked up their coats in the entrance hall, ready to say their goodbyes, “It’s your favourite Phil,”

Phil smiled at her coaxing but shook his head gently, nodding towards Dan who was resting his head on Phil’s shoulder and leaning on him for support looking thoroughly exhausted.

“This has all really taken it out of us so I think it’d be best if we went home, I promise I’ll nip around next week though and on your next day off you can come around for tea! We’re just tired right now,” he said gently, helping Dan on with his coat.

She smiled understandingly and shook her head at Dan’s laziness when it came to doing up his own coat buttons, though she didn’t complain as she saw the fondness in Phil’s eyes and figured that if it made him happy, who was she to complain?  Joshua came down the stairs and grinned as he walked towards them, a spring in his step.

“So you’re off then?” he said with an exaggerated sigh, “Have a safe journey and promise you’ll pop round! Don’t go forgetting us again!”

Dan giggled and nodded tiredly.

“Of course we will! I’m sorry it took us so long to come back, it’s just… well, I was scared to,”

The footman frowned and pulled him in for a hug, a tad more roughly than was really needed but Dan understood it was only done out of affection.

“Don’ worry, we don’t blame yer, I doubt I’d ever have come back if I were you two,” he looked down at both boys and beamed with pride, “But the both of you are a lot braver than I ever will be, and don’t you forget it,”

“We won’t, don’t worry,” Phil teased.

And with that Joshua jokily chased them out of the house, Dina following behind them and the four of them laughing hard and carrying on, none of them really caring about the noise they were making.

—-

As the carriage pulled away both boys scrambled to the window, pressed against each other as they tried to squeeze their arms out of the tiny gap to wave, the pair of them laughing at how ridiculous they were being. As soon as they trundled out of the square and out of sight they flopped back into their seats opposite each other and grinned, looking healthy and flushed and bright.

“That went a lot better than I thought it would,” Dan commented, leaning back and staring up at the roof, content, “I was so scared Mr Drew would come down on us like a ton of bricks and that Mrs Barrymore would try to claw my eyes out,”

Phil sniggered, his eyes closed happily.

“She isn’t a cat you know! But yeah, I’m really glad they weren’t there… Wonder where they are though?”

“Probably in hiding, don’t want Uncle Monty to find them,” Dan winced at the thought of his elderly uncle getting angry, although it had never been directed at Dan he still looked terrifying, “He’d have them arrested!”

“They didn’t break any laws though,” Phil pointed out with a sigh, “Shame really, I’d have liked to see them locked up, can you imagine it?”

Dan felt himself get a sense of sick satisfaction at the thought of the two of them imprisoned, that they’d suffer tenfold what they’d put him and Phil through. Then something occurred to him.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? The fact that what they did  _isn’t_ illegal,”

Phil shrugged, still not seeing as much a problem with it as Dan did. In his mind, what they did was harsh, but no worse than any other person out there forced to take on a child they couldn’t afford, they didn’t  _have_ to keep Dan, they just did. He looked up to see Dan still looking at him expectantly, he sighed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Dan,” he said quietly, “Yes I think they treated you badly, but we both see worse every day, it is what it is,”

The little lord glowered at him and kicked him in the shin, smirking at the swear and pout he got in response.

“I just don’t understand how you can think so little of yourself that you can’t see what they did was wrong, it doesn’t matter of somebody else has it worse, what happened to us was still crap,”

The younger boy folded his arms and watched the scenery change out the window, still angry. He was quiet for a moment before he began again.

“And I don’t understand how you’re not remotely irritated at the fact that people treat you as if nothing’s changed and address you so casually, you should be ‘Mr Lester’, not just ‘Phil’,”

Phil laughed at that, rolling his eyes at the younger boy. Typical Dan really, more concerned on Phil’s behalf about little unimportant things than he was things that actually bothered the older boy.

“It  _is_  my name Bear! Anyway, I just don’t mind, I’m not a lord like you so I don’t think it really matters,”

When Dan looked up again Phil could see the genuine hurt in his eyes and felt at a loss as to what he could do. He didn’t understand why it upset Dan so much, but he could see it really did. He smiled softly at the boy.

“No matter what you say, Dan, I’m still the same kid that used to steal old books from the market and bread from the shops,” he said gently, leaning forwards and holding onto Dan’s hand tenderly, “I’m still the same old commoner Phil Lester, even with these fancy clothes and my own shop. People don’t forget that kind of thing, and that’s okay,”

“It isn’t though! You deserve more respect!”

“Dan, I’m a servant and I always will be, but I’m happy with that. I’m happy that I get to serve you, I couldn’t think of anybody more worthy,” He leant forwards in the carriage and pressed a soft kiss to the younger boy’s lips, giggling as their noses bashed together when the carriage went over a large bump in the road, “I’ll always be by your side, and I’ll always be the boy from the orphanage, but I’ll always have your respect, and that’s all I need,”

Dan was going to argue but he realised he was fighting a losing battle, no matter what he said Phil wouldn’t agree, so he said nothing at all. Instead he switched sides and flopped down next to his best friend and curled up into him, letting himself be hugged and kissed tenderly and staring up into Phil’s big blue eyes, just like he had his mother’s all that time ago, and he was happy.

Some things aren’t meant to be hidden away, Dan thought the world needed to know. He wanted everybody to hear about the mistreatment of staff in the workplace, the abuse from parents and the horrendous systems in place for those in need, but he agreed that some things have to be shielded so they can stay perfect. Him and Phil were one of them.

As he slowly fell asleep in Phil’s comforting arms he knew one thing for certain; they would continue to thrive and their love would grow, if only behind closed doors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I tried to make the epilogue show that although they were out of the line of fire, the after effects were still there. Hence why Dan is sort of trying to forget it happened and Phil still has extreme self-esteem issues. I also wanted to show that it doesn’t get better all at once, but they’re both still on the mend if that makes sense?   
> Thank you so so much for sticking with me! I’m eternally grateful :)


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